Still Grows the Lilac
by Lady Dante
Summary: Part II of the 'Lilac Princess' saga. Follows the lives of Zechs Merquise & Lucretzia Noin from the ages of 12 thru 19....Please read 'The Lilac Princess' first. It won't make sense otherwise. [6x9, ZM+LN, Z/N; some TK/LU] Double update! 2 new chapters!
1. The Road to OZ

Still Grows the Lilacs

**AN:PLEASE READ FIRST. A few notes about this story. First, this is a sequel to 'The Lilac Princess.' You need to read it (_all _of it) before beginning this fic, as I have referred to events in that story. Also, for the purposes of my story Treize, Lady Une and Sally Po are all the same age, meaning 6 years older than Zechs and Noin (Z & N are 12 when the story begins, T & U are 18). I have incorporated selected bits of the Episode Zero mangas, but it is not necessary to read those if you have not. If you would _like to read those, there are two links on anipike.com to sites with translated Episode 0 mangas. Heero's and Relena's are important to this installment, the rest later. For Treize and Une fans, there will be smidges of their relationship scattered along as well. They are my second favorite GW couple, so I had to throw them in somewhere. I'm not sure that I managed to keep Lady Une in character, but I honestly tried. Very long chapter here, so get comfortable and do not attempt to read on your lunch break. Got all that? OK...let's begin…_**

**Still Grows the Lilac**

Part II of'The Lilac Princess' trilogy

By Lady Dante

_Chapter 1: The Road to OZ_

The long line of new Alliance cadets ran the length of the sterile gray hallway, winding through the corridor in an uneven chain of unhappy children. One by one, they presented themselves to the officer at the registration desk, sullenly giving vital statistics and picking up their new uniforms and bunk assignments. A young dark-haired girl, about twelve years old, stepped forward.

"State your name, last first," a bored young officer ordered blandly.

The girl fidgeted a moment before responding. "Noin, Lucretzia."

The rest of the registration process passed quickly. After the initial orientation, the cadets were allowed to retreat to their bunks to settle in for the night. Noin walked into the girl's barracks and took a cot next to the only window in the dreary room. No one questioned her choice or attempted to fight her for the spot. Some of the girls had witnessed Noin's rather hot temper earlier that afternoon. Those who hadn't were warned before another incident developed.

On the bus to the Alliance orphanage, an older girl decided to try her hand at bullying the delicate looking girl sitting at the back. A few moments later, the older girl was lying sprawled in the isle with the younger girl sitting on top. Noin did enough to ensure that the girl got the point, but refrained from actually hurting the other child. She hated to hurt other people, but her life in the streets of Rome had taught her the importance of self-defense. For a while, it seemed as though all she could do was fight. Then Sister Marguerite found her again. 

Noin sadly gazed out the window, letting the events of the past year replay in her mind. Her life with the nuns had been nice. It was a safe place with plenty of food and a soft bed. There was even a small garden for her to tend. Best of all, she was with Sister Marguerite again. They sang and talked, just as they had when Noin was a small child. It would have been perfect if not for the circumstances of their reunion. Noin bowed her head a moment, breathing deeply to dispel the tears welling up in her violet eyes. If she had only been a little faster, maybe…

The voice of a female officer announcing lights out shook the girl from her reminisces and she quickly stowed her bag under the bunk, stretching out on the scratchy green blanket. She silently said her prayers, just as she promised Sister, and made a feeble attempt to sleep, but soon gave up and resumed stargazing. Noin thought wondered to herself at how a person's life can change in a matter of moments. Four hours ago, she was at a small convent in Rome, living peacefully with the nuns. Now she was on her way to being transformed into another Alliance soldier.

Noin was once again pulled from the safety of Sister's house and forced to a life she did not want…and once again the Alliance was responsible. Sister Marguerite had managed to hide the child in the convent for almost a year, tending to the brilliant girl's education personally. Eventually, however, Noin had been discovered and, per Alliance regulations claiming guardianship of any orphan under the age of fifteen, the girl was sent to a military school. Marguerite did everything but take up arms against the group to keep Noin, but without success. The child was forced to live among the very people responsible for the constant upheaval in her young life. The same people responsible for her best friend's capture and possible execution. Noin shook away that last thought. She wouldn't allow herself to believe her friend was dead. They caught him, but that didn't mean they _killed him. For a surname, she chose the secret nickname her friend had given her, hoping the boy might hear it one day and know she was still alive. _

The girl sighed sullenly. The stars had always offered her comfort but tonight the night sky did nothing to ease her troubled mind. Noin had considered running away again. She had actually formulated several plans on the way here, but the thought of running away alone terrified her. She couldn't do it alone. Going back to the convent was not an option, either. It was too dangerous for the nuns. This was the second time the Alliance came for her. The last time, Sister Marguerite scuffled with an Alliance soldier to protect her and the nun had almost gotten herself killed. Noin wouldn't risk that again. Sister Marguerite was better off never seeing her little "wild child" again. The last time, the soldiers had come specifically for _her and only Sister's interference had saved the little girl__. This time, thankfully, they only seemed interested in adding another orphan to their new recruits roster. The girl reluctantly accepted her fate, at least for now. The Alliance had the right to keep her until she was 15. After that, she could leave._Three years. Noin only had to put up with this for three years.

The girl bent over the edge of the bed and retrieved an ornate wooden box from her bag. She cautiously unlatched and lifted the lid, careful to catch the music box key before the music started and attracted attention. She surveyed the contents of the box. It was full of childish mementos and small gifts she had received over the years. A tiny bible, a small stuffed toy, and a variety of trinkets cluttered the interior of the carved box. Noin gently fingered each piece in turn, allowing a new memory with each. Usually, she didn't like to remember--it hurt too much--but tonight she needed to remember. Her fingers paused on a small bundle of cloth. She had dutifully preserved the little bundle for almost two years. She never opened the bundle to look at what was hidden inside. It wasn't her place. It belonged to someone else. She was merely keeping it for him. Underneath the tiny package was a yellowed scrap of paper, carefully preserved. She retrieved the paper and unfolded it to gaze at the hand drawn image. It was a sketch of an old woman, a tow-headed boy and a dark-haired girl. It was a rather good likeness of the three, or at least as well as the little girl could remember. It was the only image she had by which to remember her foster grandmother Ingrid and her best friend, Zechs. She folded the paper and returned it to its place in her treasure box. Noin closed and latched the lid. She unwillingly fell asleep, clutching the box to her chest. 

The dreams came, just as the girl knew they would. The old familiar images from her childhood interspersed with new, more horrifying nightmares prevented any useful amount of sleep. She tossed on the worn blanket as faces and voices burned across her brain, painfully reminding the girl of all she had lost in her young life. A garden of people slowly turning to stone. Noin walked among them, cold and alone, gazing up at the familiar faces. Mrs. Katrina, Captain Damon, baby Rena, Nana Ingrid. The last statue was of a boy. As her dream-self gazed up at the stone boy, he suddenly sprang to life. She felt her heart leap and ran to the boy, arms open wide. Just as she reached him, the boy burst into flames, screaming in pain. Noin tried to pull the boy out of the flames but he disappeared. She looked around. The garden was gone and the little girl found herself in a forest, alone. Always alone. She was cold. There were voices behind her…angry voices…popping noises…she stumbled and fell across something soft. The girl pushed herself up and stared into the face of a little boy dressed in white, his long brown hair spread around him like a blanket. She gaped in shock as the face changed. It was now the face of a little boy with sky-blue eyes and hair as pale as a cloud. Suddenly she and the boy were engulfed in a sea of blood and swept away. 

Noin woke with a start, her heart pounding and breath ragged. She turned on her side and curled up in a ball, staring out the window at the stars. She had to start over again. Alone again. Noin was surrounded by hundreds of people and yet felt as alone as the night she woke up in that forest. Seven years and Noin was no closer to having a home than when she began her trek through the wilderness. All she had now was a cot, a uniform and a scratchy green blanket that reminded her of a painful past. Noin closed her eyes and held her treasure box as tightly as she could, crying silently. This was her life now.

The next day, the group's initiation into military life began in earnest. The emphasis was on combat and battle techniques, but the academic courses were challenging as well. Noin was glad that she would be able to continue her education, even if it was in this dismal place. She, as expected, excelled in all areas, achieving first place in the class rankings very quickly. The daily martial martial arts training was welcomed by the young girl as well. She had a natural affinity for the grace and discipline needed in such study. Her only problem was finding a worthy opponent…or _any opponent for that matter. Noin had quickly acquired an unfair reputation for fighting dirty and most cadets avoided her. Most lessons, she ended up sparring with one of the instructors. She didn't mind, really. It was lonely sometimes, but she wasn't interested in making new friends. Having friends meant the possibility of losing them and the young girl decided she had lost enough. So, she immersed herself in her studies to compensate._

Her excellent grades caught the attention of the commandant of the school and Noin's name was submitted for officer training. The girl was not particularly overjoyed with the prospect. The Alliance was the Alliance whether she was a foot soldier or an officer. Noting the girl's reticence, Noin's astrophysics instructor pointed out that, as an officer, she might have the opportunity to train for space duty. The idea of finally making it to space intrigued the girl and she found herself becoming anxious to enter officer training. 

She loved space, though she had never been there. At least, not that she could recall. Noin couldn't explain what it was exactly that attracted her to space. Maybe it was the idea that it was peaceful up there; maybe some memory buried in her subconscious compelled her to seek her family there; or perhaps it was due to the simple fact that stars were her first memory. All Noin knew was that she needed to go to space some day and if the Alliance could get her there, then she was willing to bear her present circumstances. She threw herself into her studies with a new sense of anticipation. 

Noin was transferred to the Officers Candidate School in Paris a few weeks after her basics were completed. It was a large school, but Noin noticed right away that there were few females. She was one of only a handful of female officer candidates in her class, a fact that made the other girls nervous. Noin, who had spent a significant amount of time masquerading as a boy, was not disturbed. The other cadets again kept their distance from the driven girl. She was consumed with one goal. Space. Occasionally, when she saw a group of girls giggling in the hallway of the women's dorm, Noin would feel a pang of loneliness. She was not a natural loner, but isolated herself anyway, convinced it was the best way to achieve her goals…and to protect her fragile heart. Her aloofness had one advantage. None of the other girls wanted to room with her and, since there was an odd number of female cadets, Noin enjoyed the luxury of private quarters. That one consolation to her self-imposed seclusion was not to last, however.

The day Lieutenant Une arrived at the OCS changed young Noin's life forever, though neither could have recognized that fact at the time. There was a housing shortage for female instructors and Une, being the youngest, was forced to room with the cadets. She was also the only Specials member on the base and the rivalry between the elite group and the regular military establishment was well known. Her superior officers were anxious to make certain that the young lieutenant learned her place quickly. 

The only available bunk was located in Cadet Noin's room. From the moment she arrived, Lieutenant Une treated her young roommate like a servant. Noin was expected to clean the entire room, not just her side, and act as Une's personal maid. The younger girl resented the treatment she received at the hands of the officer, but she tolerated the situation as best she could. Une was an instructor and an officer. Noin would not jeopardize her chance to go to space just to get back at a haughty instructor. Besides, Une was a good instructor and Noin recognized that she could learn a great deal from the lieutenant. Noin also reminded herself, sometimes several times in the course of a day, that it was only for three years. Three years and she could leave.

The first time Une struck the young cadet was during flight training. The slap itself was not an unusual occurrence. Noin had witnessed other cadets meet with the back of the lieutenant's hand for various reasons. Sometimes it was for alleged improper conduct, sometimes for perceived insubordination. Most of the time, Noin suspected, Une just thought the cadets needed a whack to teach them who was boss. She was a bully in a gold-buttoned uniform, berating her students for mistakes and unable to accept anything less than perfection…and Une would not tolerate defiance. Noin made the mistake one day of questioning the lieutenant's reasoning in a battle simulation. The younger girl had an analytical mind that had been well honed by years of playing chess. She suggested a different strategy--one that would not risk as many pilots--and was rewarded with a sharp slap. 

Noin's first instinct was to put her fist through the instructor's teeth, but restrained herself just in time. Une was looking at her with something akin to a smirk plastered on her face. It was a challenge, a dare to fight back. Noin struggled with herself for a moment, fighting to maintain her composure. Striking a superior officer was grounds for dismissal from OCS. Not the Alliance military, just officer training. A mistake like that could result in Noin being sent to a less reputable academy and life as a common foot soldier. After the incident, Noin spent two hours in the gym beating the stuffing out of a punching bag. Two years, eight months and twenty-six days, the young girl reminded herself, and she could leave. 

The other cadets were lucky. At the end of the day, they could retreat to the safety of their rooms and leave Une's constant criticism behind. Noin was not so fortunate. Every evening the younger girl was expected to bring Une a meal and clean up, before feeding herself. Sometimes Noin was not able to make it back to the cafeteria in time to have her dinner at all. She started squirreling away food in strategic places. The cadet's years in refugee camps and living on the streets worked to her advantage in the situation. Someone unaccustomed to hardship might have washed out of officer training after a few weeks of such treatment, but Noin did what she always did--survived. 

A few months of this routine, however, significantly weakened Noin's ability to turn the other cheek. The stress of her normal duties combined with the constant barrage of verbal and physical blows from Lieutenant Une took their toll on the girl. She grew more frustrated every day, the anger mounting to an unbearable level. Noin was almost at the breaking point. One particularly grueling evening, the cadet gratefully left her room to deliver a file for the lieutenant to the commandant's office. She walked slowly, relieved to be away from her tormentor, if only for a short time.

"Wait for a reply, cadet," Une ordered tersely as Noin saluted and left. 

Une began to ready herself for bed, unbraiding her long chestnut hair and brushing it methodically. One hundred strokes every night. It was a routine the eighteen-year-old had adhered to for as long as she could remember, but did not know why. She imagined that her mother had passed on the tradition, but she had no memory of the woman, just a faded photograph kept carefully hidden among her things. She had made up some fictional report for the cadet to deliver and was glad to have the little brat out of the room for a while. Une enjoyed solitude, but her life as a Specials officer allowed her very little. 

The young woman finished her evening grooming and stood from her dressing table, knocking off a container of lipstick in the process. The gold tube rolled under the Cadet Noin's bunk and Une scowled as she knelt down to retrieve the item. As she fumbled blindly for the lipstick, her hand brushed against something rough. The lieutenant grasped the object and pulled it from its hiding place. It was a wooden box, intricately carved and fitted with fine brass hardware. Une surveyed the box suspiciously. What was a nothing little cadet doing with such a finely crafted heirloom? 

The young woman decided the other girl must have stolen the box and decided to ascertain the true owner. She struggled with the complex latch and lifted the lid. A sweet, tinny sound drifted from the box and Une noted that a music box cylinder had been added to the hand carved box. It was nestled into a corner with a small figurine crudely attached to the winding key. The figurine depicted a quaintly dressed couple engaged in a waltz. As the key wound down, the couple rotated, seeming to dance. It was actually quite a clever idea. Une was rather impressed. 

The young woman closed her eyes and listened to the gentle melody. The rhythm was the quarter time of a waltz, lilting and elegant. It was a familiar refrain, a popular piece played at the royal balls she attended in her early teens. Her duties as a member of the nobility required she learn to dance, to be gracious and elegant. In truth, Une detested the trappings of her class. False charm and gracious manners were not enough to rule the world; the aristocracy should have realized that by now. Strength and dedication. Those were the characteristics of true nobility and they had little to do with one's birth.Yes, she was Lady Une, a baroness and loyal member of Romefellar, but she preferred to be Lieutenant Une, the warrior. She commanded more respect as a Specials officer…she respected herself more.

As much as Une disliked it, being a member of the Romefellar Foundation was necessary. The organization was the only political outlet for the bulk of the dispossessed aristocracy. After the Alliance consolidated power and effectively took over the planet, the former ruling class found itself in a dangerously unstable new position in the political arena. Only by banding together and presenting a united front in the form of Romefellar were they able to salvage what was left of their former glory. The foundation courted favor with Alliance leaders by providing new technology and weapons, all the while plotting their own return to power. The Specials Unit was actually a front for a carefully planned rebellion called OZ. 

The pleasant sound of the music box faded out as Une allowed her mind to wander. She rewound the key and lost herself in the vague impressions and bits of memory the music brought to mind. She remembered little of her life before being taken in by her aunt, a German countess. Memories were not something she sought to recover, but occasionally the young woman felt the need to give in to the obscure imagery and unintelligible voices that crowded into her brain. In those moment, she felt a change in herself, a calmness descending upon her, displacing the harshly disciplined soldier, if only briefly. It was that calmness that enveloped her now as she watched the tiny couple spinning, locked in an eternal embrace.

"That's MINE!" 

Une turned her head sharply to see an angry Noin standing in the doorway, fists clenched. The two stared at each other intensely before the cadet spoke again. 

"I said that's mine," Noin hissed through gritted teeth, "put it back!" The girl took a threatening step forward.

"What are you trying to hide, cadet?" 

Une's voice was frigid. The lieutenant didn't really care about the contents, but she would not brook such insolence from a mere cadet. The young woman held the girl's gaze steadily, still holding the music box. Une idly ran her fingers over the interior, fingering a small bundle of cloth. The moment Une's fingers brushed against the soft cloth, Noin seemed to lose control. The younger girl lunged forward and made a grab for the box. The lieutenant easily eluded the furious cadet and stood. 

"Who did you steal this from, cadet?" Again, Une's voice was completely devoid of emotion.

"It's mine!" The suggestion infuriated Noin even more, "It's mine and you don't have a right…"

"I have _every right, cadet!"_

With a growl, Noin flew at the lieutenant, grasping for the box. The lid slammed down on Une's fingers and she jerked away, accidentally flinging the box across the room. Noin watched in horror as the box smashed into the wall, scattering the contents across the cold concrete floor. Une flexed her injured fingers, angered by the younger girl's defiance. The young lieutenant lashed out, striking the cadet with full might. Noin hesitated only an instant before making a tight fist and swinging. Her fist connected with Une's jaw with enough force to send the taller lieutenant staggering backwards. Noin took advantage of Une's shock and took another swing, but her anger robbed her of reason. She did not put her martial arts training into play, instead reverting to her old street fighting techniques. Une recovered herself quickly and just barely ducked the blow, catching Noin as the girl spun around. The lieutenant held the younger girl in place as the child kicked and growled in frustration. 

The commotion attracted a small crowd in the corridor. The other cadets watched from the doorway, unsure whether to cheer for Noin or call for help. Une, noticing her audience ordered the other girls back to their rooms, threatening all manner of punishments for those who did not comply. Noin stopped struggling and Une released her grip on the smaller girl, giving her a small shove. They glared at each other for several minutes, a silent battle of wills that neither was willing to forfeit. Une finally stalked out into the hall, heading for the washroom to clean up and tend to her fingers. She casually called back over her shoulder, "Have that mess cleaned up by the time I return."

Noin stood her ground until the lieutenant was out of sight then set about frantically collecting the strewn mementos of her childhood. The girl picked up the box first and was relieved to see that it seemed relatively undamaged. The hinges had been knocked loose and the latch bent, but Noin knew she could fix both easily. It was upon peering inside her treasure box that the girl's breath caught in her throat. The music box was broken. The tines that created the lovely music were bent and the figurine that had adorned the key was missing. It was ruined. Noin exhaled slowly, choking back tears. Everything always got ruined. 

Noin anxiously began gathering her treasures, crawling around the floor desperately seeking the small porcelain figurine. She retrieved each and every item she had stored in the box, one by one returning them to their special place. Every item except the figurine. Noin crawled along the floor, passing her hands along the gray concrete in the event her eyes missed the precious object. She moved furniture, upturned bedding, not caring what state the room was in when Une returned. The girl's only objective was to find that figure. 

She finally gave up and sat on the edge of her bunk. Noin held her treasure box on her lap and stared at the floor, willing away the tears she wanted so desperately to shed. Une would return any moment and Noin would not allow the lieutenant to find her crying. She concentrated on her breathing, mentally following it on its path through her lungs and out again. Breathe in, breathe out. Two years, five months and twelve days and she could leave.

Lieutenant Une returned and paused briefly to survey the state of the room. For some reason, the young officer chose to ignore the mess and went to bed. She turned her back to the cadet sitting rigidly on the edge of her bunk. Noin was glad the lieutenant turned away. If she had to look at the older girl's face all night, she wasn't sure what would happen. 

Noin clutched her box and scooted back onto her cot, leaning against the small window over her bed. It was a clear night and the stars were visible. The stars were always there. The constellations shifted, the clouds sometimes hid them, but the stars were always there. The only constant in the girl's life. Noin felt the first tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, but did nothing to allay the stream. Une was asleep, no one could see her now. It was safe to cry. 

"Stella, stellina..." she whispered quietly.

Across the room, Une stared at the plaster wall. She heard an occasional sniff coming from the direction of the cadet's bed and tried her best to ignore it. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason, Une was beginning to feel sorry for the earlier incident. The box obviously contained what few personal possessions the younger girl owned and Une knew it was wrong of her to have meddled with them. It was the type of intrusion she herself would have punished severely. The lieutenant frowned at her weakness and closed her eyes, attempting to sleep. The tune she heard earlier began to replay in her head and her mind's eye supplied the familiar fragments of memory that had haunted Une since childhood. Places and people far away, voices just out of hearing. 

Une rolled over and looked at her roommate. The child--and for the first time, the lieutenant saw Noin as a child, not a brat---was sitting curled up with her music box, staring out of the window. The girl often stared out of the window at night in an almost trance-like state. Une tried to recall what her own life had been like when she was twelve. It had been her first year in OZ, her first year away from her aunt. The life of a soldier was harsh at any age, but exceptionally so for someone who should still be enjoying the nurture of a family. Une sat up and quietly walked across the room, picking up a handkerchief from her dressing table as she passed. The young woman sat on the end of Noin's bunk and offered the pristine linen cloth.

"Here…blow your nose. The sniffing is keeping me awake." 

Noin glared at the older girl, expecting to see an expression of annoyance. Instead, Une looked a bit concerned. Confused, Noin took the handkerchief and obeyed, eyeing the older girl suspiciously over the scrap of cloth. Une began to shift uncomfortably as the younger girl watched her carefully. Noin had never seen the lieutenant act nervous before. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or run. 

"That is a lovely music box."

"It's mine," Noin snapped, tightening her grip on the precious box to punctuate her statement.

"Yes, I know…I was just making an observation."

Noin frowned at the older girl. An understanding, even sympathetic, Une was a bewildering sight…not to mention unnerving. 

"Did your mother give it to you?" 

Une asked the question with genuine interest. Noin scooted away from the wall and sat the box in her lap. She ran her fingers over the delicately carved lid, now sitting askew atop the lower portion. A mother had given her the box, but not her mother. She didn't know her mother.

"No," Noin finally responded, "a friend…when I was very young." Her voice was quiet, heavy with seven years worth of suppressed emotion.

"I see…where is your friend now…"

"She's dead, ok? They're all dead!"

She whirled to face Une, her tone just short of a shout. Noin didn't know what game Une was playing, but she was not in the mood to humor her. The young girl had been pushed beyond the limits of tolerance and would not allow herself to be pushed around anymore. 

"I'm alone…just…" Noin looked away as her voice quivered, "just let me be alone." 

Une frowned a bit and, for a moment, Noin thought the lieutenant might try to hit her again, but the anger that momentarily flashed in the officer's eyes was replaced with something else. Something almost kind. 

"I know it must be difficult for you here, but you should really watch your behavior with officers. The Alliance doesn't tolerate…"

"I don't give a damn about the Alliance and I don't give a damn about you, so just…leave…me…alone!" 

Noin spat the words out through gritted teeth. The last thing she wanted just then was a lecture on proper military etiquette from a woman who took perverse pleasure in bullying her students.The young girl didn't care anymore what the Alliance would or would not tolerate. Noin had put up with enough. She decided in that moment to run away, after all. The thought of being alone frightened her, but anything was better than _this. She would find a place somewhere. Perhaps she could stow away on a shuttle…_

"Why do you hate the Alliance so?"

Une's question and the gentle tone with which it was asked caught Noin off guard. "They killed my friends…all the Alliance knows how to do is destroy…" The girl's voice trailed off in a whisper.

"Then why have you tried so hard to succeed in officer training?"

"So I can go to space." Noin blurted her answer out without thinking. 

"Why is space so important?"

Noin paused this time before responding. She wanted to go to space because she believed the answers to the riddle of her past lay there. Her future and her past were there, among the stars. She dared not tell Une any of that so she responded as simply as she could.

"It's peaceful up there." 

Noin looked away again, unwilling to elaborate. The officer nodded and remained silent for a short time. When Une spoke again, it was with a more commanding air.

"I believe it is far past lights out, cadet. Go to bed" 

The lieutenant rose as she spoke and stood over the cadet as Noin scooted under the covers, holding her box the way a small child holds a doll. Une uncharacteristically reached down and straightened the girl's blanket, pulling it up to Noin's chin in an almost sisterly manner. Noin watched the older girl walk back to her own bed and settle down to sleep. Une's behavior was unpredictable on a good day, but tonight it bordered on the bizarre. Noin had never seen the stern instructor behave so…_nicely. As she drifted off to sleep, the cadet wondered what species of alien she had been talking to and who kidnapped Instructor "Uney Buns."_

The two unwilling roommates never discussed their altercation. Une seemed not to remember the incident at all…at least she did not retaliate as Noin expected. Both forgot the fight and Une's later kind behavior as they slipped back into their familiar routine of put-upon student and hated instructor. Noin received an unexpected, but all too brief, reprieve when Une was summoned to the Specials command in Brussels. She would be gone for 8 days. Noin plopped down on her bunk with an audible sigh of relief. 

"Freedom," she murmured to herself as she drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lieutenant Une scanned the report in her hands, checking for accuracy, as she walked towards the Specials' main office. She was on her way to meet His Excellency, the newly appointed leader of the Specials and her direct superior. In her hand, the officer held a list of names, candidates for Specials training. The Specials corps, a front for the OZ movement, was populated with only the best and the brightest of the best and the brightest. Anyone considered for OZ training had to be beyond reproach and intensely loyal to the cause…and hate the Alliance with a vengeance. 

Special preference was given to members of the nobility, though the group's membership was not restricted as such. It was, however, very difficult for someone of common birth to rise above the rank of lieutenant. Even Specials uniforms served to provide an easy visual clue to a soldier's status. Alliance uniforms were olive drab, one cut for everyone from the lowliest private to the most decorated general. Specials uniforms reflected the ancient ideals of birthright through complex trimmings and specific color designation. Higher ranked nobles wore blue or white, lower nobility were identified by the use of red. Commoners and cadets wore forest green uniforms of a simpler cut. 

The new young leader, Duke Treize Kushrenada, took a personal interest in recruitment and all new recruits were approved or rejected by His Excellency. He insisted that all candidates be orphans. Anyone with a family was rejected outright, regardless of their other qualifications. The young duke did not want to compete with a loving family for the loyalty of his officers. The new candidates were also expected to be disciplined and highly intelligent. Most members of OZ scored at genius level or higher. Finally, and most importantly, they must have a personal motivation for rebelling against the Alliance. As a result of these new rules, most new OZ members were war orphans with huge chips on their shoulders. A sea of dispossessed children, looking desperately for something to believe in…and OZ gave them just that. 

Lieutenant Une had yet to meet His Excellency, and was looking forward to the opportunity. His reputation as a charismatic leader preceded him and Une was anxious to judge the man for herself. OZ was her life, her mission. If its new leader failed to live up to the organizations standards…

"Come in, Lady Une."

Une stood in the doorway, hand poised to knock. The young man standing behind the antique oak desk did not look up as he spoke. He busied himself, not with paperwork as would be expected, but with a vase of roses adorning the credenza behind him. Une took the opportunity to glance at the papers on His Excellency's desk. On top of a stack of paper, right in the middle of the desk was her personnel record. He had been checking up on her. It was expected, of course, but Une found that she was slightly irritated anyway. 

The lieutenant returned her gaze to the young man. She watched as the duke carefully removed and replaced several blooms, his broad shoulders slightly hunched. She stared at his back, unaccustomed to being kept waiting in favor of a floral arrangement. His Excellency fussed over the elegant hothouse flowers, arranging them to his satisfaction before turning to face Une. 

Duke Treize was every bit as handsome as his picture, the young woman noted, but he was much taller than she expected. The ornate trappings of his uniform caught the sun streaming through the picture window, creating points of light that seemed to radiate from the man himself. His ginger-colored hair glittered in the morning glow, setting off his sky-blue eyes perfectly. All and all, he was a remarkable sight. The youthful duke would have impressed any woman. Lieutenant Une was not just any woman. She decided to reserve her judgment of the young man. Standing at attention, she executed a crisp salute.

"Please, Lady, I prefer that this meeting be free of such formalities." His voice was rich and smooth, fitting his appearance perfectly.

Treize walked around the large desk, extending his hand. Une responded to the unfamiliar gesture hesitantly. Most high-ranking officers, Alliance and OZ alike, were sticklers for protocol. It did not surprise the young woman that His Excellency had used her aristocratic title rather than her military rank--most members of OZ preferred the reminder of their noble status--but his expression puzzled her somewhat. The young man was peering at her intently, a slight smile brightening his handsome face as he gestured to a pair of chairs by the picture window. Une shook off her curiosity and sat across from the duke, handing him the file folder she brought.

"These are my recommendations for new recruits. They have all completed first level training and are fully prepared for battle testing."

Treize glanced over the contents of the file and asked, "You selected these cadets personally?"

"Yes. Each has demonstrated exceptional leadership qualities and piloting skills. I've listed them according to class standings."

His Excellency flipped through several papers and frowned. "The name at the top of the list…this cadet's history seems incomplete."

"Cadet Noin doesn't have much of a personal history, sir." 

Treize looked up, smiling, "Please, call me Treize."

"As you wish, Mr. Treize." The young man's smile broadened at Une's insistent formality, then looked back at the list. Une continued.

"The Alliance found her hiding in a convent a year ago. Before that, she was living on the streets of Rome. No family to speak of."

"And no title…"

"I believe in such situations, a minor title can be conferred upon promotion to lieutenant."

"And that is your recommendation?"

Lieutenant Une paused briefly. She didn't actually approve of conferred titles, either one was a member of the aristocracy or not, but the cadet in question did indeed demonstrate great potential…assuming the girl could overcome her discipline problems. There was a deep seeded prejudice among the members of Romefeller against the initiation of cadets of low birth. The new commander could prove to be one of those narrow-minded men. Une admitted to being an elitist herself, but the young lieutenant truly believed Cadet Noin would prove to be an asset to OZ.Une was, however, unwilling to jeopardize her own career in the organization on behalf of a street rat with an attitude problem. 

Une understood Lucretzia Noin well enough to know the cadet would not remain with the Alliance willingly, certainly not fight for them. The girl hated the Alliance military. Noin might not accept an appointment to OZ, either, but it was worth a try. The old adage, _"the enemy of my enemy is my friend,"_ crossed Lieutenant Une's mind. Common foe, mutual goal. The cadet might welcome the opportunity to fight the Alliance. Une was not certain of any of this, however, and that made Noin a bad choice. The logical choice was to recommend the girl be transferred out of officer training all together, so the lieutenant was at a complete loss to explain why she was willing to risk her own reputation to help the other girl go to space. Sometimes one must act on instinct, not calculation. Une cautiously responded to the duke's question, choosing her words carefully.

"I believe talent should be recognized where it is found. OZ's ultimate goals are paramount." She locked gazes with the young man across from her, "If we do not recruit her to our cause now, the Alliance will have another formidable soldier for OZ to contend with…it defeats our purpose."

"And what is our purpose?"

"I believe, sir, that the purpose of the Specials is to identify the brightest, most capable cadets and train them to serve Romefeller, is it not?" 

"One purpose, yes." The duke crossed his legs and leaned back in the overstuffed chair. He regarded the other officer a moment before speaking again. "I'll consider your recommendations and get back to you. I'm preparing to leave for space soon and…"

"Yes, Mr. Treize, I'm aware of your mission to colony x-18999. That is actually why I requested this audience."

"Oh?" 

Une was relieved to see that His Excellency was not irritated by her interruption. "Yes, sir. I believe the cadets should accompany you on your training mission. Experience in routine colony defense would be the perfect opportunity to test their skill and worthiness."

"A trial by fire of sorts?"

"Yes."

"With the fate of a new colony in the balance?"

"The cadets in question are currently considered Alliance recruits, sir. Should they fail to live up to expectations, it is the Alliance who will bear the shame. If they succeed…"

"If they succeed, we make certain the public knows they are Specials recruits…brave young soldiers defending the new colony. Romefellar will have a public relations goldmine." 

His Excellency looked at Lieutenant Une for a few moments as he considered her request. The mission to x-18999 was a routine defense exercise, or so he had been told. His personal sources on the colony informed him several hours ago that a coup attempt was eminent, most likely within a day of his scheduled arrival. It would indeed be quite an accomplishment for his Specials recruits to put down a rebellion. The noble knight of Romefellar leading brave young soldiers in defense of a colony. Even his uncle would be pleased. The young woman across from him shifted uncomfortably under his continued scrutiny. He had read Lady Une's file earlier and it was impressive, but Treize had to admit he would have been quite impressed with the lovely young lieutenant regardless of what her file stated. She was obviously an ambitious young woman, but idealistic as well. Just what an OZ officer should be…a zealot. The almost fanatical devotion of its members was what made OZ such a strong organization. Uncompromising devotion was what he expected of all of his officers, yet could not produce in himself. Lady Une seemed to have a surplus.

"Very well, Lady Une. I accept your recommendations. Have the cadets report to me three days from now, gear packed."

"Wouldn't you like to review their performance records first, sir? Discuss my selections?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the time. You have obviously given your choices a great deal of consideration, Lady, and I'm willing to take a chance with your recommendations. I believe in heeding the advice of my officers…especially officers of your caliber."

"Thank you, sir." 

The officers stood. Lieutenant Une raised her hand to salute again, just as His Excellency offered his hand. Treize smiled as he reached up and pulled the young woman's hand down, grasping it in a handshake. 

"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Une. I look forward to seeing you again." 

Une noted that odd expression again and was embarrassed to realize she was blushing. Releasing his hand, the lieutenant excused herself and quickly exited. 

Lieutenant Une scowled as she left. The duke had accepted her proposal, but made it clear that he did so on her word alone. Her reputation as an officer was now on the line. If her recruits failed, her career faltered. She would not have her ambitions damaged by the incompetence of a cadet…nor could Une stand the idea of having Mr. Treize think badly of her. The cadets simply had to succeed. She had three days to ensure the cadets would not fail her. Three days to double their assignments and increase their hours in flight sims. Une picked up her pace as she made her way back to the return shuttle. She had cadets to train. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Lady Une vacated his office, Duke Treize Kushrenada once again perused the list of names in his hand. They seemed to be perfect candidates…on paper. Treize had learned long ago that the true test of a soldier lay in the battlefield. All of the simulations in the world could not prepare one for the realities of war. Add to that the extreme youth of the candidates and the potential for disaster was great. The average age was fifteen. Treize was an experienced soldier by the age of fifteen, but he had been raised to it. His uncle, Duke Dermail, took over the youngster's political and military training upon the death of the boy's mother. Treize had been twelve. The same age as his young ward, Zechs Marquise.

Treize shook his head in amusement as he considered the boy's chosen pseudonym.Zechs Marquise. Sixth Marquis. Clever. The young duke rose and walked back to his hopelessly ornate desk, pausing to summon his assistant on the intercom. The young lieutenant scurried in, listened dutifully to His Excellency's orders concerning transportation for the new recruits and scurried away. Treize glanced at the grandfather clock across the room and noted the time. He was late for fencing practice. 

His Excellency ordered his car and returned to the Eighteenth Century mansion he inherited along with his antiquated title. It was an expansive structure, but not something he would call "home." His ward certainly would not. Treize entered the vast dwelling and went to his suite to change into his fencing outfit. The young man made his way through the impeccably furnished rooms and pristine marble hallways to the fencing room. Zechs was already hard at work, putting his unfortunate sparring partner through quite a workout. Treize remained in the doorway to watch the match…if it could be called that. The young count's opponent was certainly not his equal. 

The boy had made a great deal of progress over the past year. His frequent mood swings and violent outbursts had become less frequent. His manners had certainly improved, due, Treize supposed, to the fact that the boy merely needed reminding. The two never discussed the boy's true identity or anything pertaining to the fall of Cinq Kingdom, but the subtle reminders were there. The boy's manner of speaking, his bow, all indicating the culture he was born into. All in all, the boy was progressing nicely. He was becoming every bit the charming young aristocrat he should be. In addition, he was already beginning to attract a great deal of female attention. Any nobleman visiting the estate was sure to arrive with a granddaughter or pre-teen niece in tow, all graciously welcomed. The boy played the part well, but Treize knew Zechs used his aristocratic façade to hide an obsessive need for revenge. 

From the moment Zechs began his new life as Treize's protégée, his goals were made dangerously clear. He wanted to learn to fight, grow strong and destroy the Alliance. Every action, every lesson, every moment of the boy's life was dedicated to that one goal. If that meant enduring the nauseating chatter of bored aristocrats, he would do so without complaint. If becoming a skilled warrior meant playing the role of elegant nobleman to a host of blushing debutantes, Zechs would do so. No price was too high to pay for his revenge. 

Zechs was passed off as a cousin of the young duke, a minor count from an obscure principality. It was a comfortable charade and the boy mastered it well. The natural grace and charm the boy inherited from his lovely mother were carefully cultivated. He played the dutiful ward to Treize at balls and parties, enduring the incessant and inane conversations common to such events. There was a constant flutter of young girls around the boy count--moths to a flame, as Treize put it—all politely attended to. Aside from the fact that the boy refused to take dance lessons, he was proving to be quite the little gentleman. 

"You have the match, sir." Exhausted, Zechs' sparring partner, held out a congratulatory hand to the boy count and left with relief. 

"You favor your right."

Zechs looked up to see Treize standing a few feet away, blade in hand. "You're late."

"Forgive me, but I was in a meeting with a particularly lovely lieutenant...punctuality didn't seem as important at the time."

Zechs rolled his eyes. He hated being paraded out for Treize's latest conquests. He was expected to play upon their maternal instincts, pointing out what a good man the duke was to take in a lonely orphan. Treize's lady friends adored the idea of the generous benefactor caring for the sad little boy. It was crap, but Zechs played along out of a sense of obligation. Treize had taken in the runaway, promising the resources and training necessary to become a soldier.The young duke lived up to those promises and the boy was genuinely grateful. Zechs was learning everything he needed to know in order to defeat the Alliance. The former prince did, after a time, come to look upon the young duke almost as an older brother. He trusted Treize to a point, though Zechs could never bring himself to confide in the young man the way he had with Noin. The boy swallowed at the unexpected thought and gritted his teeth against the anger stirring inside him. He could never trust anyone like that again or allow anyone to trust him in turn. It would only get someone else killed. 

"So will I have to meet this 'lovely lieutenant' or is she temporary?" Zechs gripped his epée, anxious for another match. 

"Don't be rude, Zechs," Treize responded as he took up position, "Besides, you know I don't fraternize with my female officers."

"No, just noblemen's daughters...or wives."

"You're a bit young to make such an crass observation, don't you think?" Treize retorted in amusement. "En garde."

The verbal sparring ceased in favor of the actual duel. They fought for a while in silence, each concentrating on the movements of the other. Treize moved with the ease of a man accustomed to courteous duels, fluid and graceful. The younger boy, though equally graceful, showed none of the ease that marked his opponent's demeanor. He took everything much too seriously, Treize thought as they sparred. Zechs' only goal was to defeat his enemy. Fencing wasn't an exercise to the boy. It was a serious mission. What he lacked in gracious sportsmanship, Zechs made up for in intensity. Treize possessed superior technique and a height advantage. The younger boy had speed and focus in his favor, but in the end, Treize won the match…as usual. 

"Good match, Zechs." 

Treize smiled at the younger boy and offered his hand. Zechs was annoyed at yet another loss, but took his guardian's hand and complimented the duke's skill. Manners first. It was the mark of 'good breeding,' as Treize always insisted. It was one of the first and most repetitive lessons Zechs was required to learn under the duke's tutelage. Zechs had never enjoyed the inane ceremonies essential to royal life. Having spent half of his life free from such concerns, it was difficult to return to the old habits once adhered to so diligently. He preferred the life he had in Italy. There he was just like any other boy, or at least he had pretended as much for as long as possible. Zechs knew now, that he was not fated to a quiet life in a quiet town. He was destined for something much different. He rubbed his palm roughly, gazing down at the hand that had been too slow to save his best friend…the hand that had taken a life. He wished he had understood his true purpose sooner. Fate might have spared Noin if Zechs had not been part of her life. If only he had realized it earlier. His destiny was stained with blood. 

Treize gave the frustrated boy a friendly pat on the shoulder and suggested they partake of some refreshment…wine for Treize, juice for Zechs. As they sat in Treize's study sipping their drinks, Zechs thought, not for the first time, how much the room reminded him of his father's study. The imposing desk, the impossibly valuable chairs…even an antique chess set in the corner. It wasn't his father's study, though, nor was this his country or his home. He had no home. He was a prince without a country. No…he was not even a prince. It had been many years since he thought of himself as a prince and he refused to do so now, despite his surroundings. At heart, in the darkest corner of his soul, Zechs knew he was nothing better than a murderer. Even if it were safe to do so, the boy couldn't possibly take up his title again. He couldn't bear the honor of the Peacecraft name. He deserved no such consideration. 

"Would you like to have a game of chess?"

Zechs looked up, a bit startled. "Pardon?"

"You were staring at the chess set," Treize nodded to the hand carved game pieces lined up on the pedestal across the room, "I assumed you wanted to play."

"All right." 

As they moved to the game table, Treize watched his young ward with concern. The boy always had an air of melancholy about him. Zechs never spoke of his life before Treize rescued him from an Alliance prison, nor did the young duke inquire. It seemed too much of an intrusion. In any event, the events of the boy's past were just that, past. He had a new destiny. Treize was grooming Count Marquise to be his right hand, the sword he would wield against the Alliance. Zechs was an apt and willing student, devoting himself to his training with a ferocity that seemed misplaced in one so young. Most children his age, on the other hand, had not had to give up a kingdom. 

The boy's nightmares worried Treize the most. He was a tortured little soul and the young duke felt helpless to aid his young friend in banishing the ghosts. Treize knew those ghosts. They had haunted him as well on occasion. 

During the day, Treize could convince himself that his sometimes unconscionable behavior could be justified. There was a greater good at stake. Might makes right and all that. Nighttime was different, especially those last moments of darkness just before the break of dawn. In the cold gray, the ghosts of those he had destroyed made their presence known. Five hundred and twelve lives. That was the number. At least, that was the number he took responsibility for personally. There were others of course, deaths that he had contributed to indirectly, but those five hundred and twelve lives were his burden alone. So far, Zechs was only responsible for one death--that young cadet named Karl—but Treize was certain the boy held himself accountable for the death of his family and the friend Karl killed.It was too heavy a burden to be born by one so young. 

They began the game and talked about the day's events. Zechs was in the process of preparing for his entrance exams to the Lake Victoria Academy, the only military academy operated exclusively by the Specials. Lake Victoria was the breeding ground for OZ's new young leaders and Zechs would soon join their ranks. The boy's tutors were complimentary of his work and indicated that the boy would soon be beyond their instruction. 

The young count received special praise from his art instructor, who felt the boy had extraordinary talent. Treize encouraged the boy's art studies, believing that his artistic tendencies curbed the overwhelming feelings of repressed anger that Zechs struggled to contain. Earlier that day, Zechs had accompanied his art instructor to a special exhibition at the Museum if Fine Art in the city. Zechs relayed his opinion of the exhibit as they played. He and his tutor had gotten into quite a debate over the symbolism in a particular piece, resulting in an assigned essay detailing his opinions and reasoning. Treize was pleased to see the boy excited about his assignment. He generally showed little real enthusiasm for his studies. He was simply too anxious to begin his military training. 

"Check" Zechs announced as he placed his knight.

"Well done…but not good enough I'm afraid…checkmate." Treize moved his bishop and smiled at the expression on his ward's face. 

"Aw, heck," Zechs mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing…when do you leave for space?"

Treize looked incredibly amused by the timing of the question as he answered, "Three days." 

"How long will you be gone?" 

"Three months."

Zechs nodded. One could almost hear the wheels in his head spinning. He was growing annoyed with the fact that he had yet to defeat Treize in anything. Fencing, chess, billiards…Treize won at everything. The boy scowled at the chessboard, replaying every move in the game to determine where he went wrong. Three months to improve his skills. He would play everyday—against the computer if he had to. The next time he faced Treize in a chess match, Zechs was determined he would be the victor. Treize kept putting off Zechs' entry into Lake Victoria Academy on the grounds that the boy still had much to learn. Zechs was convinced that once he managed to beat Treize at something—anything—he would allow the younger boy to enroll and begin his life as a soldier. He had to beat him next time. He had to.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"The following cadets remain behind after class…Becker, Rolf, Lothian, Provsky, Noin. Everyone else, DISMISSED!"

The five cadets stood nervously, wondering what they had done to be detained. Noin knew, better than most, that Lieutenant Une was likely to have just chosen their names at random and singled them out for underserved punishment. Whatever Une had planned, Noin wouldn't have to put up with it much longer. She finally formulated a workable escape plan and had been preparing for the last two days. The cadet had stockpiled food and managed to use her scavenging skills to 'acquire' a few items to sell. She should be able to raise enough money to make it back to Rome. A few stolen wallets later and she might be able to make it to a spaceport. 

"Follow me," Une commanded and the cadets dutifully fell in line behind the stern instructor. She led them around to her small office and lined them up, at attention, in front of her desk. 

"These are your new assignment schedules." 

Une walked down the row and handed out stacks of papers. Noin glanced over the schedule, noting the increase in flight training and battle simulations. According to the list, she and the other unfortunate cadets would be in classes from sunup to sundown and beyond. Twenty-minute breaks were allowed for meals, six hours for sleep and bathing. _"That's it,"_ Noin thought angrily, _"this time she's gone too far."_

"Look over your new assignments carefully and report to me tomorrow morning at five a.m. You will be reassigned to a new training facility in three days. Your orders are in your files. Until that time, you are still mine, cadets! Don't forget it! Dismissed!" 

Une followed the bewildered cadets back out into the hall and walked towards the officer's lounge. She paused upon noticing Cadet Noin standing rigidly in the corridor. The cadet looked furious, her hands clenched the new orders tightly. She looked as though she wanted to say something…shout something, actually.

"Questions, cadet?"

Noin hesitated, deciding whether to have it out with the officer once and for all. Maybe she should just wait until Une was asleep and spike the officer's lipstick with red pepper. She wisely decided to let the matter drop, fearful that the instructor would confine her to quarters and preventing Noin's escape. 

"No…ma'am."

"Then I suggest you read your orders and get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow and it will start sooner than you think." 

Une turned on her heel and walked away as Noin began flipping through her papers. The lieutenant turned the corner and stopped abruptly as she heard a girlish squeal of delight behind her and the patter of cadet boots running towards the dorms. Une shook her head at the undignified episode and walked on, relieved that she would finally have private quarters. 

"Space!" Noin burst out of the building and yelled into the night air, "I get to go to space!" 

She stopped and leaned heavily on a nearby tree, out of breath. The girl looked over her orders again, confirming what she thought she read moments earlier. Training mission. Colony x-18999. Leave in three days. Noin looked up at the star field above her and laughed. "I did it, Nana…I'm going to see the stars." She walked on to her dorm room, more lighthearted than she had been in almost two years. Free passage to space. Once there, she could run away, just as she had intended. She wouldn't have to wait now. She could find a place to live in space, make a home, grow up and come back for him…when she was old enough. She was sure she could find her best friend. She just had to grow up…they could go back to space together, where it was safe…no wars, just stars.

The next three days passed more easily than the previous three months for the young girl. Though her workload was now twice as heavy, she made it through relatively unscathed. As Noin packed her few meager belongings in her duffle bag, she tried to imagine what it would feel like to be weightless. Was it like floating in the bathtub as she had when she was a small girl? She had heard some people suffered from nausea in low gravity environments, but Noin was certain she would not be afflicted. As the girl walked to the plane, her mind churned with questions, all of which were about to be answered.

Back in the dorm room she once shared with Noin, Lieutenant Une sat at her dressing table to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. As she peered into the mirror, her eye caught the reflection of a tiny object lodged in the loose baseboard behind her. She rose and walked to the wall, kneeling to retrieve the object. Une held it up to the light. It was a tiny figurine…a couple dancing. How odd. The young woman closed her eyes, removing her glasses as she squeezed her eyes closed. She was beginning to feel strange. There was the hint of a song playing in her mind, a vaguely familiar tune…a waltz. Where had she heard that melody before? 

Just as quickly as the feeling washed over her, it faded. Une stood and replaced her glasses. The figurine was not hers, so, logically, the lieutenant assumed it belonged to Cadet Noin. She left the room and walked to the tarmac, hoping to return the tiny porcelain figure to Noin before the girl left. 

Cadet Noin was standing in line with the other cadets, waiting dutifully to board the plane to Brussels. As Une approached, the cadets all quickly turned their gazes to the pavement at their feet. No one wanted to risk the wrath of Une at the very moment of their escape. To the relief of the other cadets, Une called Noin out of the line. The younger girl walked rigidly to her instructor, jaw tight. It would be just like Une to hold out the hope of space to Noin, only to snatch it away at the last moment. 

"I believe you left this in the room, cadet." 

Une extended her hand and Noin stifled a gasp. It was the figurine from her music box. She quickly took the figure from Une.

"Thank you ma'am…I thought," Noin paused and glanced up at her instructor, "I thought I lost it."

"You have been given a rare opportunity, cadet…don't disappoint me, Noin." Une glared at the younger girl.

"Ma'am." Noin saluted.

"Back in line, cadet." Une turned and walked away, Noin's curious gaze following her. Instructor Une acting nice _twice_. Weird. 

Noin boarded the shuttle and took her seat. She looked at the porcelain ornament in her hand, running a finger gently over the tiny couple before stowing it in her uniform pocket. She took a breath as the plane departed. Excitement, fear and curiosity melded together in her mind as she peered out of the window, watching the base grow smaller. The cadet had given little thought to her new duties, her main concern was the trip into space. It didn't matter to the girl what the Alliance expected her to do on this mission, she wasn't planning to stay long. Noin just wanted to bide her time until she could make her escape. She was on her way. 

A few hours later, Noin and the other cadets disembarked in Brussels. They were met by a young officer in a Specials uniform who quickly gave them instructions and herded them to the temporary barracks. They were all given bunks in a row, no one seeming to notice that Noin was a female. There didn't seem to be separate quarters for female cadets and Noin made the best of her awkward situation. She waited patiently for the other cadets to shower and finish readying themselves for lights out before making her way to the communal bathroom. She showered quickly and changed into her uniform for the next day, reasoning it would save time and embarrassment to sleep in her uniform. 

The girl straightened her shirt and hung the uniform jacket by her bunk. They had been given new uniforms for this assignment. She and her fellow cadets were expected to wear the green and white uniform of the Specials unit. Noin had heard of the Specials, all cadets had, but she did not know that much about the group. The Alliance regulars seemed to detest the Specials, a good reason to for Noin to admire them. Une was a Specials officer…a better reason for Cadet Noin to hate the entire unit. She didn't want to be part of an organization that would commission a woman like Une. Noin dismissed her idle thoughts. She was on her way to space. If she had to masquerade as a Specials recruit for a few hours, no big deal. It wasn't like she was staying. 

Noin once again found it impossible to sleep, though it was a result of her excitement instead of nightmares. The night passed slowly and she filled the hours by running over her escape plan. She would stay with the other cadets until they received their duty station assignment. There would be time during the transfer for her to sneak away. If she timed everything correctly, she could blend in with the crowd at the spaceport and stow away on an outgoing shuttle to another colony. Home free…freedom. That's what drew her to space. The idea that she could be free of war and poverty, pain and loneliness. The stars were constant, space was peaceful. She would finally know what it meant to go home. 

+++++++++++++++++++++ End Chapter 1 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

I fully expect to get flamed for the "Uney Buns" thing, but the Evil Chibi thought it was funny, so I left it in. 

WooHoo! I'm back! Thank you to everyone who sent suggestions for titles. I'm sending everyone a cyber lollipop (as soon as I can) because most of your suggestions will be used as chapter titles. I really appreciate your ideas. They were great! I appreciate all of the great reviews of the first part of this budding 'epic' and I hope you like part II just as much. The next chapter reveals more about what Zechs has been going through and introduces a new character. 

Special thanks to Evil Chibi (stop reading this and go do your homework!), The Major and Johnny Rage for letting me bounce ideas off them and/or letting me rant. It helped a lot to brainstorm and get your opinions. Thanks! 

And thanks for the coffee, Dwayne…@-@

The title I chose comes from a poem by Henry David Thoreau and here it is:

_Still grows the vivacious lilac_

_a generation after the door and lintel and the sill are gone, _

_unfolding its sweet scented flowers each Spring,_

_to be plucked by the musing traveler, _

_planted and tended once by children's hands in front-yard plots,_

_now standing by wall-sides in retired pastures and _

_giving place to new-rising forests,_

_the last of that strip,_

_sole survivor of that family._

Now, I ask you...is that perfect or WHAT? Go Uncle Henry! Impress your friends by quoting that.

_Disclaimer: Yeah, great. More disclaimers. Gundam Wing and its fab characters do not belong to me [sniff...why, oh, why can't they be mine?]. This fanfic [all 15 to 20 chapters, I haven't decided on the length yet] is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. So keep your slimy lawyer hands to yourselves...[sprtttt!]_


	2. The Quest of the Cloud Prince

Still Grows the Lilac, Chapter 2

** To anyone who was personally affected by the tragic and cowardly attacks in NY and DC, you are in my prayers. Fanfiction probably doesn't seem important in light of recent events, but writing is how I deal with sadness or anger. It's my therapy. **

The beautiful poem below was written by Cleckmoon & it also inspired the title for this chapter. Lolly's on the way, promise!

Still Grows the Lilac 

The Lilac Princess, Book II

By Lady Dante

Chapter 2: The Quest of the Cloud Prince 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prince of the Clouds   
I was once a creature of the pits,  
wallowing in the depths of despair,  
but now watch as I fly,  
for I will become the Prince Of The Clouds.  
With the gulls as my friends,  
and the geese my trumpeting call,  
watch me as I fly,  
for I am the Prince of the Clouds.  
~ C. Montisle ~

Zechs Marquise closed the leather bound volume of poetry and slid it back into position on the perfectly maintained bookshelf. Every book was meticulously placed on the shelves according to height. Row upon row of books stretched the length of the library wall. There were over nine thousand volumes in the estate's library covering every subject and time period from Aristotle to Yeats. The Kushrenadas had eclectic tastes. 

The boy wandered aimlessly along the marbled halls of Treize's mansion. It was as close to a home as Zechs could hope for at this point, but he felt no connection to the antiquated building. He could not seem to attach himself to anything in this place. Not that it had been much different at Treize's ancestral estate. The young duke had relocated the household from his native Luxembourg shortly after being appointed the new commander of OZ. They now lived in Brussels, the seat of world politics. Belgium was a lovely country and the city of Brussels possessed an old world charm that even Zechs appreciated, but it couldn't replace his homeland. He had not seen Cinq since he was six years old, but the memory of the ruined country's former beauty haunted his dreams. The ancient port city, the little villages, the vast forest surrounding the royal estate…he remembered every detail with painful clarity. It was all too vivid in his mind's eye. Sometimes he wished he could forget. 

Belgium was his mother's birth country, a fact that gave the boy some measure of comfort. He had not visited Queen Katrina's homeland before Cinq was invaded. His mother wanted to wait until the young prince was old enough to appreciate the country's rich history. Now, the opportunity was lost forever. He could never walk through the ancient thoroughfares hand and hand with Katrina as she related tales of her childhood. She could not tell him of the adventures she had as a girl in the quaint villages or show the young prince his grandparent's graves. She could not take the boy to the garden where she first met his father. Zechs knew where everything was and had made the pilgrimages, but he could never see those sites through his mother's eyes and so the beauty was lost. 

Zechs wandered into the conservatory, idly running a hand along the wainscoting as he walked around the posh room. He sat at the ebony grand piano and carelessly plunked the keys, envisioning his mother's piano and recalling her lovely performances. Treize insisted Zechs take lessons. The boy was not a natural musician, but loved music and practiced faithfully. He would never be a concert pianist as his mother had been once, but the boy did become quite proficient. Enough so to impress the never-ending flock of young noblewomen passing to and fro in the mansion. He placed his hands delicately on the keys and began gently playing a familiar tune.

Zechs closed his eyes as he played. He imagined a small audience of special guests, which consisted primarily of women. He never realized before that moment how many of the people he had loved in his life were female. His early life had been profoundly influenced by these women and the boy smiled to himself as they drifted into his imaginary audience. This select few looked on in ghostly delight, clapping soundlessly in approval of the selection. It took Zechs months to find the sheet music for the piece. He did not know the name of it and had to hum the tune for the sales person, who luckily was able to recognize the melody despite the boy's off key rendition. Zechs practiced the piece daily, finally memorizing it well enough to play without the aid of the sheet music. He played it now, allowing all the melancholy he felt seep from his young heart to his fingers and into his keystrokes. It was a lullaby.

The young count's private performance was abruptly interrupted by the sound of muffled voices down the hall. Zechs stopped playing, hands poised over the keys, and listened. There was another thud and the creaking sound of a door being opened. The boy rose and silently made his way into the corridor. He followed the sound of the noise with little concern for his own safety. If the intruders were robbers who had somehow made it past security, he could fight them. If it was someone sent to assassinate Treize, they would find the young duke absent. If they were after _him, _he would happily demonstrate their error. Zechs paused again at the sound of voices. He recognized one. It sounded like…

Zechs paused at the door to Treize's study. A loud bump, the sound of clinking glass and a loud curse confirmed his suspicions. Zechs cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside. The only light in the expansive room was a desk lamp and it took a few moments for the boy's eyes to adjust. Zechs walked across the room and toward the source of the disturbance. Behind Treize's desk, sitting haphazardly in His Excellency's velvet chair and brushing at the spilled alcohol on his jacket, was a young Specials officer. He had a leg draped over the arm of the plush chair and his green uniform jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a terribly rumpled undershirt. In his hand, the young man held one of the fine cut crystal brandy snifters Treize prized. It was part of a set purported to have belonged to Napoleon. The officer had a rather unsteady grip on the snifter and Zechs was certain the expensive piece was about to shatter against the parquet floor. The boy shook his head as he approached, both amused and annoyed by the scene before him.

"Hi, Johnny."

"Hey Zechs-boy," the OZ lieutenant responded with a grin, "How ya doin' man? Want some?" He generously offered up his nearly empty glass.Johnny's words slurred ever so slightly, indicating that he had already consumed quite a bit of Treize's precious stock of cognac. 

"You're drunk."

"Am not…I'm just a little tipsy," Johnny asserted as he waved the crystal cup towards his cohorts, "_They're_ drunk."

"Damn straight." 

Zechs turned to see Johnny's companions, two young Specials officers, sitting on the other side of the room. The one who spoke sat slumped on a Louis XV gilt settee, the other had managed to miss the piece of priceless furniture and sat sprawled on the floor.

"So where's His Eminence?" Johnny stumbled over the pronunciation of the last word as he raised the brandy to his lips.

"Space…but you knew that or you wouldn't have snitched his brandy."

"I resent that!" Johnny's scowl morphed into a lopsided grin, "…mostly because it's true." The young man stood and walked around the desk, wobbling only slightly as he did so. "So, how are you doing kid?" Johnny reached out and mussed the younger boy's hair, irritating the young count to no end.

"Come on, Johnny! I…" 

"…hate it when I do that," the young lieutenant smiled affectionately at the younger boy. "Lighten up, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Zechs insisted petulantly.

"Yes you are, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasts," Johnny polished off the rest of the alcohol in his glass. His mood darkened slightly as he continued, "once it's gone, it's gone, Zechs. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up."

They stood in silence for a few moments as Johnny brooded. Zechs looked up at the older boy, sorry for having brought up an obviously painful subject. The young officer reached back to desk and retrieved the bottle. He quietly refilled his snifter and swirled the amber liquid in the glass, staring into the tiny whirlpool of alcohol. When the cognac was sufficiently warmed, Johnny began sipping once again. Zechs raised an eyebrow as he watched. 

"Treize is going to be angry when he discovers how much of his cognac you drank."

"Well, it's his fault for leaving it in the liquor cabinet. If he didn't want to share, he should have locked it up. Besides, he shouldn't begrudge a glass or two to _me. _I mean, what are brothers for anyway?"

Zechs smiled a bit at the last statement, mainly in response to the broad grin that spread over his friend's face. It was difficult not to smile around Johnny. It was also difficult to believe that the young man before him was the brother of His Excellency, Duke Treize Kushrenada. If not for the striking physical resemblance, one would never suspect. Johnny and Treize shared their father's ginger-colored hair and clear blue eyes as well as the towering height passed through the Kushrenada line. Their personalities, however, were strikingly different. Treize was every bit the cultured aristocrat, all cool manner and practiced charm. Johnny, on the other hand, could be hot tempered and possessed a sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. But he never pretended to be something he was not and Zechs admired him for it.

"So when's big-brother-sir coming back?"

"Couple of months." 

"Damn. Should've called before he left…" Johnny mumbled to himself.

"What's going on?"

"Just something I wanted Treize to see."

"What?" 

"Nothing to concern yourself about, kid…besides, it's Top Secret, so, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Johnny finished in a mocking tone, grinning evilly at his young friend. Zechs scowled at being called a 'kid' again, but said nothing. The OZ lieutenant finished off the last drop of brandy and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He took a breath and swayed slightly to the right.

"Be a pal and help me to my room."

"What about them?" Zechs asked as he nodded to the now unconscious Specials officers on the other side of the room.

Johnny smirked. "Oh I told the guards to pick them up in a couple of minutes and deposit them back at the base...in the commandant's office." Johnny snorted at his own practical joke and hooked an arm around the younger boy's neck. "Home, James."

Zechs guided Johnny through the darkened halls of the massive house and helped him to climb the grand staircase. The older boy occasionally broke into a ribald song or whistled snippets of show tunes as they made their way. He comically saluted a few ancestral portraits as they walked through the upper gallery, making cheeky remarks to the stern-looking ladies and winking at their male counterparts. As the duo turned into the East Wing, they passed a large grandfather clock. Johnny grew unexpectedly serious and peered at his young guide.

"What are you doing up so late, anyway? It's 2:00 in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep." Zechs looked forward and didn't elaborate.

"Nightmares?" It was more a statement than a question and Zechs did not respond. It wasn't necessary. "Which one was it this time?"

Zechs swallowed and looked down at the brilliantly colored rug covering the floor. They had come to a stop at Johnny's room.

"It's o.k., Zechs, you don't have to tell me," Johnny said as he patted the troubled boy's shoulder. "but you need to try and get some sleep." The young man rumpled the boy's hair again and grinned at the look of annoyance it produced. "Go on. You can beat the crap out of me tomorrow."

Zechs frowned but obediently started for his room. He was still annoyed at Johnny's persistent use of the word 'kid' and the young man's incessant attempts to irritate him, but Zechs felt his melancholy begin to lift slightly. Things were always more interesting when Johnny was around.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A day after arriving in Brussels, the prospective Specials recruits were once again lined up on the runway and prepared to leave. As the group boarded the small shuttle that would take them to space, Noin caught sight of a huge craft on the opposite side of the runway. It was a brilliant blue with what appeared to be a family crest painted on the tail. Two lions, rampant, on a red field. The crest looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She overheard from two lieutenants in front of her that it was 'His Excellency's' personal shuttle. The leader of the Specials was apparently going with them to colony x-18999. Noin frowned. They were probably being sent to tend on 'His Excellency' in much the same way she had been forced to serve Lieutenant Une. Aristocrats. Noin frowned at the prospect of being treated like a maid once more. She was really learning to dislike aristocrats. 

The trip was eventful for everyone on the small shuttle but for various reasons. Noin was excited as they took off. The adventure of leaving Earth's atmosphere, the first few dizzying moments of low gravity…it was all so thrilling. She stared out of the thick window, drinking in every moment of the trip. Others were not so happy. Two of the cadets and on of the young pilots Noin overheard earlier got 'space-sick.' Upon docking at the colony, all three were hurried to the infirmary for treatments and a prescription for motion sickness pills. 

Unfortunately for Noin, the rest of the group was forced to remain together and driven to the command center building immediately. She did not have the opportunity to scan the spaceport for possible escape routes nor to slip away with the crowd. She would have to wait until no one was watching. Until then, she concentrated on her new assignment in the command center. The pilots in her group were here to train in the new mobile suits recently introduced by the Specials. Noin's group served as a support crew for the MS team. It was her job to relay vital information concerning battle conditions to the pilots on the field. She was good at her job and found that she actually enjoyed the assignment. Noin was especially pleased with the fact that she didn't have anyone standing over her shoulder, criticizing her every move. She was actually given a great deal of autonomy. Her superiors left her to do her work and listened sincerely to her suggestions. It was the first time since being forced into the Alliance that the girl received any respect and Noin blossomed. She began to take real pride in her work, pushing herself to excel, not merely perform adequately. She did not give up the idea of running away, but there was plenty of time for an escape. In the meantime, she decided to enjoy the challenge of her new responsibility. 

The cadets were three days into their new training before they met their new instructor. They were informed that His Excellency would take over their training personally, which made most of them quite nervous. The leader of the most elite unit in the Alliance military was going to oversee their training. It was enough to shake the most confident young cadet. They each tugged at their crisp new uniforms, brushing away imagined specks of lint, straightening any vague indication of a wrinkle. Noin, never one to enjoy uniforms, fidgeted uncomfortably. Specials uniforms were more formal than the fatigues of Alliance troops. The etched metal buttons, the caps and other details were designed to set the Specials apart--more specifically above—the rest of the military establishment. The uniform was a mark of distinction. All of which was lost on Noin. She thought they all looked like bellhops.

The row of young soldiers was called to attention sharply as His Excellency entered. Noin stood at the end of the row, nervously awaiting her turn. They were not given leave to stand at ease, so she and the other cadets stood rigidly, eyes forward, shoulders back. His Excellency, his aide supplying names and ranks, moved down the line pausing to speak to each cadet as he perused their performance reports. 

"This is Cadet Noin, Your Excellency. She is currently assigned to the communications center."

Treize Kushrenada stopped in front of a petite cadet with short dark hair. The recruit looked exceptionally young to the 18-year old commander. He scanned the report his aide handed him but did not see an age listed.

"How old are you Cadet Noin?"

"13, sir."

"13?" Treize asked with quiet suspicion. The cadet sounded younger.

"Almost, sir…in five months…sir."

Treize smiled. Five months was hardly 'almost,' but he did not pursue the matter. He looked back at the report to read it more thoroughly and raised an eyebrow upon seeing the cadet's first name. Lucretzia. The little cadet was a girl. Ah, yes, he remembered. Lucretzia Noin was the cadet without a past…personally recommended by Lady Une. The young duke wondered if Une suggested the girl simply to add more women to the ranks. The question was quickly put to rest as His Excellency read over the girl's efficiency rating. She was at the top of her class, scoring twenty points above most of the other cadets. She had an impressive record for one so young. 

"You come highly recommended, Cadet Noin."

"Thank you, Your Excellency." 

Noin kept her eyes trained forward and resisted the urge to frown. She couldn't think of anyone back at the training facility who would have 'highly recommended' her for anything…with the possible exception of her astrophysics teacher, but he had suggested she apply for the science and research division, not the Specials. As she pondered, Noin kept her eyes forward. Since His Excellency was standing directly in front of her, this meant the girl was staring the commander square in the chest. She studied the buttons on the young man's uniform. The crest she saw earlier also appeared etched in his uniform buttons. The more she looked at the gilt ornament, the more Noin believed she had seen it somewhere before. 

Slow realization spread over her as the image clicked. The last time she saw that symbol had been on another uniform. A boy's uniform. Noin glanced up at the tall young man before her and quickly directed her gaze forward once again. She was right. It was that boy. He was grown now, but it was him. Same hair, eyes and that same mysterious smile that always seemed to hover at his mouth, as though he knew something no one else did. It was that boy she met on her sixth birthday, the nephew of one of the men she saw talking in the courtyard just before the attack. She remembered that old duke clearly. He had frightened her. Now, she was faced with the old man's nephew. Noin visibly stiffened as the young duke spoke again, praying silently that he wouldn't recognize her. 

"You have an impressive record for one so young, Lucretzia. Do you like your new assignment?"

"Yes, sir." 

Treize looked down at the girl. She was rather small and he found himself peering at her from a height that prohibited a full view of her face. The girl's features were further obscured by stray locks of glossy black hair that fell across her forehead. The young man noted the girl's rigid posture and smiled slightly. The cadet was certainly an accomplished technician but she was also an adolescent girl. Treize took her discomfort as a normal reaction to his scrutiny. She was embarrassed to be examined so closely by a young man. 

"I expect great things from you, Lucretzia." He smiled down at the girl and acknowledged her salute before moving on.

Finally dismissed, the cadets dispersed and made their way back to their various posts. Over the next few days, the group of young recruits was put through numerous drills and training routines. Aside from their regular duties, Treize took it upon himself to begin instructing the potential officers in the art of fencing. It was his belief that every member of OZ should learn to duel and the young commander made it a daily lesson for his young charges. The gracefulness and discipline imparted by dueling was crucial to young officers, a message that His Excellency taught with great care. It was easy to sit behind a communications console and order long range weapons' fired upon a distant city. It was something else all together to face an opponent in single combat, testing skill and honor on a personal level. 

The young duke watched his cadets practiced and mused over their progress. They all showed great potential and were obviously eager to please their charismatic young leader. Treize was glad of this of course. If he was to rise through the ranks of Romefellar, he needed the complete trust and loyalty of his soldiers. Their devotion was not quite enough, however, which was why he required instruction in such things as fencing, deportment and other refined pursuits. These children weren't simply to be soldiers; they were the platform upon which Treize would stand to create a brand new world. They would be his representatives from the royal courts of Europe to the farthest space colony, his eyes and ears. 

His Excellency finally called a halt to their routine exercises and called the cadets to attention. Every few days the youngsters were required to face Treize on the mat. No one ever defeated the duke—no one expected to defeat him. Rather, it was the young commander's method of gauging their progress. Some of the cadets, Lucretzia in particular, were quite adept. Those who challenged him the most were placed at the end of the line. Each cadet stepped up in turn and, in turn, was dispatched. Finally, Cadet Noin stepped forward. 

Treize and Noin saluted and took up stance. As usual, Treize was the first to advance, starting slowly so as not to defeat the girl to quickly. The advance and retreat continued, the older instructor proceeding with cool precision as his young student immersed herself in the match. Treize was once again impressed with the girl's skill. It was obvious she had previous instruction, but still, for one so young, Lucretzia showed a remarkable amount of concentration. The only other young person he knew who demonstrated such intensity was Zechs. The match continued a bit longer than expected as Treize discovered that it was not quite as easy to defeat the cadet. She seemed determined to win today and fought with all her might. As much as he enjoyed the match, it was getting late and Treize decided to wrap things up. He quickened the pace, hoping to force his opponent into making a mistake. She did not. He retreated slightly, forcing the girl to advance. Treize waited for the chance then attempted to force the girl to lunge. His intent was to make Lucretzia loose her balance and thereby leave her open, but the cadet did not take the bait. The duke switched tactics and suddenly lunged forward himself. The shorter cadet ducked unexpectedly, causing Treize to misstep. Before he had time to recover, Lucretzia snapped up, the tip of her foil connecting with His Excellency's chest. He looked down at the point in shock. It was precisely over his heart. 

The entire room froze in silence. After a long pause, both Cadet Noin and Instructor Treize straightened. Noin stood nervously, squeezing the hilt of her foil rhythmically. Treize looked at her a moment. The girl was most likely unsure as to whether to be pleased or contrite at her victory. Treize was unsure how to react himself. He had not been bested in fencing since he was a boy and to be defeated by such a young opponent was quite disconcerting. The cadet finally pulled herself into a polite salute, which the young duke returned. He smiled as he removed his helmet and approached the girl, hand outstretched.

"Excellent match, Lucretzia."

"Thank you, Instructor Treize," the girl responded with obvious relief.

Treize patted the girl's shoulder with pride, complimenting her technique. The cadets were dismissed and exited the chamber, chattering about the unexpected turn of events. Cadet Noin was the most popular person at dinner that night, her table overflowed with fellow students anxious to hear of her strategy. Noin was unaccustomed to such attention, but bore it as best she could before finally retreating to her quarters for the night. She lay awake for hours, replaying the match in her head. She beat him. He was taller, more experienced and more graceful than she and still she beat him. Her height, which one would assume to be a liability in such a situation, worked to her favor as she formulated a plan of attack. Mr. Treize had expected to win. His overconfidence and her unexpected move was the young man's undoing. Noin giggled to herself, remembering all the times she had beaten Zechs. Of course he had defeated her just as often, but Noin always replayed those matches in her head, critiquing her performance and learning for the next duel. She learned long ago to think three moves ahead. Zechs would have been proud of her today. 

Despite her victory and Instructor Treize's graciousness, Noin was still troubled by the duke. He gave no indication that he recognized her, but the young man was hard to read. He smiled constantly and never seemed to be disturbed by anything. He was a good teacher, but Noin couldn't quite bring herself to trust him. It didn't help that he insisted on calling her Lucretzia. She was once again the only female in her training group. Having His Excellency point that out regularly, whether on purpose or not, was beginning to make her uncomfortable. It also brought up the possibility that Treize did indeed remember her. Years ago, she had been introduced to him simply as Lucretzia. Could he be using that name to let her know he was aware of her identity? Why were his uncle and that Alliance officer so interested in her anyway? She could never figure that out. After all these years, everything still came back to one question. "Who am I?" She whispered the question into the still air. Noin worried over the possibility for quite a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep. 

The young cadet tried to push her worries aside the next morning as training resumed. The younger cadets were to have their first try at the simulator for the newest mobile suit design. Noin's excitement temporarily erased her lingering doubts about Instructor Treize. She found at the Alliance training facility that she had quite an affinity for piloting the various craft associated with the military, in the simulators at least. She had yet to be allowed the opportunity to actually pilot anything. She was too short to reach the foot controls. 

Today would be different. Instructor Treize had promised that all of the cadets would have the opportunity to sit at the controls of the newest suits. She pushed through the throng of excited recruits and made her way to the front. She listened eagerly to everything the instructors and pilots had to say, absorbing the information like a sponge. She had not given up her plan to run away, merely postponed it in favor of more technical training. The girl reasoned that such skills would be beneficial to her later, unwilling to admit to herself that she enjoyed her training. This might be her only opportunity to sit in a mobile suit. Noin was determined to make it count. 

At last it was her turn. Every other cadet had been called and had their turn. For some reason, Instructor Treize seemed to forget Noin was there. Usually, she was one of the first to be called up. She wondered briefly if this was some sort of punishment for having defeated the instructor in the previous day's duel. As a worried frown began to creep across her face, His Excellency finally called her name. He smiled as he easily lifted the girl into the mobile suit, kneeling outside the hatch to give orders.

"So, Lucretzia, how does it feel to finally be behind the controls of a mobile suit?" 

"Cool…" she breathed. Realizing how childish that sounded, Noin tilted her head forward and amended, "I mean, very good, sir. I've been anxious to learn more about the new design."

Treize, not wanting to embarrass Noin, successfully stifled a chuckle at the girl's reaction as he began to point out the various instruments. He was pleased to see the young cadet so thrilled. His Excellency had reacted in much the same way the first time he tested a mobile suit for OZ. He had been a bit older but reacted with the same excitement, doubly so when teamed with his newly discovered brother. Mobile suit duels were their first competitions and Treize still enjoyed the challenge Johnny presented whether it be on the practice grounds or on the other side of a chessboard. 

He continued the lesson, allowing young Lucretzia to demonstrate for him as he spoke. The group discussed the various armaments andmaneuvering capabilities of the suits as well as the weaknesses of the new design. A young cadet raised his hand and asked a question most of the others had thought of at some point.

"Sir? Why don't we just use long-range weapons? Why continue direct combat?"

Treize stood and addressed the cadets. He had expected that question.

"The true test of character, cadets, lay in direct battle. Only such a test will reveal what one is capable of. Many a high-ranking officer has been proven a coward on the battlefield…and many a lowly soldier has revealed courage and nobility beyond anything ever witnessed previously. Meeting your enemy face to face is the only way to confront your own weakness…remember that."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Zechs moved his knight into position on the gilt chessboard and waited for his opponent to make another move. Johnny had agreed to help Zechs practice while Treize was away and the two spent at least two hours a day frowning over the ornate game pieces. Johnny was the only person Zechs knew who had ever defeated Treize at anything. On the surface Johnny appeared to be a fun-loving prankster, full of scathing remarks and amusing quips. His jovial exterior covered a highly analytical mind, one of the few traits Johnny shared with his brother. Zechs watched Johnny as the young man casually perused the game. He was, naturally, sipping more of Treize's precious cognac and seemed decidedly unconcerned with the game. Noting Zechs' scrutiny, the young man grinned and made an amusing remark as he moved one of his bishops. He winked and announced, "Check."

Johnny reminded Zechs of Captain Damon in many ways, except that the young man tended to be quite moody, especially when he was drunk. Seven moves ago, the officer had been ready to knock the board across the room in aggravation. Treize always maintained absolute calm in the face of every frustration, even when Johnny won at chess. Treize's way of retaliating was to play the superior and condescending older brother.

Treize and Johnny were half brothers and their age difference actually consisted of only a few months. Currently, the brothers were both 18 and would remain so for a month more, until Treize turned 19. The young men shared the same father but different mothers and, as Johnny put it, Zechs was "too young to hear the rest." Zechs was not naïve about the situation and made the proper assumptions, but never asked. Zechs was wise enough to see that it was not something either young man liked to discuss. In private, Johnny and Treize were brothers. They argued frequently but were devoted nonetheless. In public, Johnny was just one of Treize's many Specials officers. No mention was made of his relationship to the House of Kushrenada.

Not that the young man actually wanted to be known as the second son of a duke. He had lived in the United States and Canada until he turned 14 and viewed the formalities of the aristocracy with scorn. He had little patience for the nobility and made no attempt to cover his contempt. Johnny was a member of OZ for two reasons. He believed that the Alliance would destroy the world if it was allowed to continue unchecked. Secondly, and sometimes more importantly, Treize was his brother. The two had formed a strong bond after their father died and Johnny's loyalty to his brother was as fierce as their frequent arguments.

Zechs had trouble understanding the brothers' behavior. He had been an older brother once and he never would have treated Relena with the contempt he saw from Treize. Of course, Zechs had been an older brother to a much younger sister. Then again, there was Noin. Though they had not been blood siblings, his relationship with Noin had been marked by the occasional feud, and like the Kushrenada brothers, he and Noin always seemed to forget any hurt feelings or angry words. That was what made a family. Forgiveness and acceptance. 

"Whoa." Johnny grasped Zechs' wrist as the younger boy prepared to move another one of his pieces.

"What?"

"You're never going to beat Treize if you keep playing like this."

"Like what?" Zechs scowled at the chessboard, trying to determine his error.

"You're too cautious. One reason Treize always wins is that he's willing to sacrifice every piece, from pawn to Queen, in order to win."

Zechs put his piece back down and looked at the board again. "All right. What do I do?"

"Be bold! Don't let fear get in the way of what you want, Treize doesn't and neither do I. If you're not willing to lose big, you can't expect to win big." Johnny paused briefly as a wolfish grin spread across his face. "By the way, that's a good policy with women, too."

Zechs rolled his eyes. That was another thing the Kushrenada boys had in common. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"They're attacking the command building!"

The frantic shouts of young soldiers echoed through the corridors as they scrambled to secure the structure. The first few rounds fell short of their mark, shaking the building but doing no real damage. The assault intensified and the invaders finally broke through the outer defenses, advancing on the main structure. As rebels relentlessly barraged the colony's command building, Treize Kushrenada requested permission to engage the enemy. The young duke led his pilots to their new mobile suits, leaving the rest of his cadets in the command center as support crew. His young soldiers obeyed his orders immediately, but Treize noted their obvious fear.

"If you calmly do your jobs," he reassured, "you have nothing to fear."

Inside the command center, Lucretzia Noin listened to the instructions of her commanding officer. _"Do your duty and leave the rest to God."_ She mentally reminded herself. _"I can do this." _She ignored the nervous flutter in her stomach and concentrated on relaying information to the pilots. The communications array was offline, preventing her from calling for back up.

"Sir, communications are still being jammed."

"Very well…Lucretzia, I am depending on you to give me accurate data during the battle."

"Yes sir!" Noin paused briefly, unsure whether she should voice her next thought. "Instructor Treize?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Please call me Noin…It doesn't matter in battle whether a soldier is a man or a woman."

"I understand," Treize smiled broadly in spite of himself, "Cadet Noin."

The battle progressed rapidly. The superior numbers of the rebel group threatened to overrun the besieged command center, but the mobility of Treize's mobile suit pilots curbed their advance. The battle raged for an hour as, one by one, Treize and his pilots destroyed the assault vehicles. Just as victory seemed imminent, Noin's sensors sounded an alarm.

"Instructor Treize! Someone is targeting the command building!"

"Where?"

Noin quickly calculated the coordinates and relayed them to her commander. Treize moved his suit to the left of the building, positioning himself in the line of fire. The new attacker was far out of range of the mobile suit's weaponry and Treize's ammunition cache was seriously depleted. His only option was to use his suit as a shield. He moved into position just in time. The missile whistled towards him with deadly accuracy, exploding on contact.

"Instructor Treize!" Noin shouted in panic despite her training. She watched in horror as the missile meant for the communications room was deflected by His Excellency's suit. He sacrificed himself. Noin at last began to see the commander as a leader instead of a potential enemy. He might be the nephew of that old man who frightened her, but Instructor Treize had proven himself honorable and brave, willing to die in defense of his cadets. She recalled what he said earlier. The true test of character lay in conflict.Perhaps she could trust him after all…if he lived. The girl bit her lip as she checked her sensor readings, all the while listening intently to mobile suits' open commlinks. Noin stifled a gasp as Treize spoke weakly.

"Is everyone all right?"

"Yes sir," Noin replied in a shaken voice, "The command center is in tact, Your Excellency."

"Good…"

It was little more than a whisper as the young man began to lose consciousness. His cadets were all right, the command center was saved. His cadets performed admirably in spite of their fear and inexperience. He did it. He would be viewed as a hero now. A hero. His soldiers would love him now and if they loved him, they would follow him. That was his last thought as darkness descended upon his exhausted mind and injured body.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Come on, Johnny. You always say you'll let me try but you never do."

Johnny looked at his young friend with an annoyed expression. He was tuning up his mobile suit, his 'baby,' and Zechs was once again pestering him to try the controls. The kid was a persistent litter bugger. Johnny's normal excuse was the boy's height. Up until a few weeks ago, Zechs had been too short to reach all of the controls. An unexpected growth spurt put an end to that pretext. The boy count now stood at Johnny's shoulder, rather tall for someone just entering puberty. 

Johnny sighed as he wiped greasy hands on overalls. There were technicians who could see to his suits maintenance, but Johnny was never one to let anyone else play with his toys. He certainly didn't want to start now. The older pilot looked at the boy a moment longer. Zechs was certainly eager to begin flight training. It was the only interest that didn't directly stem from the boy's desire to destroy the Alliance. When Zechs talked about flying, his entire demeanor changed. He would look wistfully into the sky and speak of what he thought it was like to soar above the clouds, moving faster than anything on the ground. He wanted to streak through the sky like a blaze of lightening. It was one of the rare times the kid actually looked like a kid. 

"Oh, all right. Hop up." He extended his hand to Zechs as he spoke and helped the boy onto the mobile suit.

They spent the better part of the afternoon going over the controls and inner workings of the suit. Armory, specs, communications capabilities. Zechs already knew most of it. He spent countless hours pouring over diagrams and manuals. He could recite most of the information from memory and knew each mobile suit design by heart. This design was his favorite. It had the capability to fly, not just 'hop' short distances, but _fly_.

As Zechs slipped into the seat and placed his hands on the controls, he felt an uncommon sense of calm. It was as though he was born to sit there, born to be part of such a magnificent machine. Johnny droned on about what buttons not to push and how to escape in an emergency, but Zechs barely listened. He knew all of that already. He knew this suit better than Johnny did. Unbeknownst to the young officer, Zechs had snuck out a few times over the past week and broken into the suit. He was careful to wait until his friend was asleep or at least drunk, before making his way to the landing platform behind the mansion. The boy had even fired the suit up one evening, just to listen to the engines hum. There was, however, one thing left to do.

"Can I take it out, Johnny?"

"No!"

"Aw, come on," Zechs pleaded, "I know how everything works. I've practiced in the simulator. I won't wreck it, promise." 

Johnny smirked. Zechs Marquise sounding like a teenager asking for the keys to his dad's Porsche was rather amusing. As much as the young officer hated having anyone else pilot his suit, he had to admit that the boy did know what he was doing. Unlike Treize, however, Johnny did not like the idea of the kid being turned into a soldier at so young an age. He had no illusions as to Zechs' determination to fight one day, but he was still just a boy. The war had left Zechs angry and traumatized, but he was still too young to participate in such actions. The kid had been through enough. Making him a soldier wouldn't heal the boy's wounded soul. Johnny knew. It hadn't helped him one bit. Instead of giving him, to use Treize's phrase, a "constructive outlet" for his anger, it just made everything worse. The pain didn't go away, it increased. So much so, that some days Johnny couldn't function without 'his little helper.' A bottle of booze secreted somewhere nearby was often his only means of dealing with what he allowed himself to become. He saw so much of himself in Zechs, he wanted to scream at the kid. Shake some sense into him, give him a glimpse of his future. He didn't bother because he knew it wouldn't do any good. 

"O.K. fine…but if you kill yourself, don't come crying to me."

Zechs flashed one of his rare smiles at his friend and prepared the suit. He went through the checklist with the expertise of a pilot twice his age. When the computer acknowledged the all clear, Zechs started out. If he had not promised Johnny to take it slow and NOT to lift off, he would be airborne by now, racing the wind. Instead, he contented himself with learning to maneuver the large mechanism. He experimented with the suit's arms, learning how to use them as extensions of his own hands. It took grace and finesse to handle a mobile suite properly, not just anyone could do it. That was why Zechs wanted so badly to practice before he entered Lake Victoria Academy. He wanted to be the best. If he were the best, they would not deny him the chance to pilot one of these new suits. They would not deny him anything.

"How's it going kid?" Johnny stood nearby, nervously watching his beloved suit move across the field without him. He gripped the headset to his ears as he waited for Zechs to respond.

"Great! Thanks Johnny."

"You're welcome, kid." Johnny chuckled at the boyish delight in the boy's voice. It was good to see him act his age for a change. The young man was startled by an outside signal and moved to his portable communicator. He flicked it on and the image of one of his soldiers flickered on the screen.

"Lieutenant!" The girl saluted. Johnny waved comically in response.

"What's up, Belinda?"

"Sir…" she paused. It was apparent that the young woman would rather be anywhere else at that moment.

"Spit it out, lieutenant."

"I've been ordered to inform you sir, that His Excellency has been injured in battle."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The darkness that surrounded him abated slowly. The vague impression of light gradually gave way to fuzzy images and finally he was awake. Treize closed his eyes and lie still for a moment, trying to recollect what had happened and why his head felt like a squashed pumpkin. Ah, yes. The battle. He smiled to himself as he attempted to sit upright. A wave of dizziness and the gentle push of two hands sent him back to the comfort of his pillow.

"You have a concussion, broken ribs and other injuries. You need to lay still."

The voice was soft and most definitely feminine. The young man opened his eyes and gazed up at his caretaker, smiling as her face came into focus. She was lovely. He suddenly became amused with himself. He felt like death warmed over and served on a cracked platter, but he still managed to find a beautiful woman to flirt with. 

"I'm dead," he said with a smile.

"No, you're all right now, you're safe." The nurse smoothed his hair out of his eyes, concern evident in her tone.

"No. I must be dead. Why else would I see an angel?" It was a trite line, but it usually worked.

"Oh, good heavens…that one's older than my father…" 

"I've always preferred the classics."

"If you're like this when you're at death's door, what _must_ you be like in good health…" The nurse sounded slightly annoyed with his attempt to flirt, but, Treize noted with pleasure, she didn't leave. 

"Allow me to introduce myself…"

"I'm aware of who you are, Mr. Kushrenada…the hospital has had to hire more security officers to fend off all of the reporters."

That idea made the young man wince. The press…if the story had already been run. "I need to make a call."

Seeming to read his mind, the young nurse once again restrained the duke. "Your family has already been notified. Your aide contacted them personally. Everyone else can just wait for the daily update." Treize laid back in relief. The last thing Johnny and Zechs needed was to hear wild rumors about his untimely demise. Oh yes, and Uncle would be annoyed as well.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the hospital corridor, Cadet Noin paced nervously. The last time the girl had been in a hospital was the day her foster grandmother died. It was one of the worst days in her young life…one of the many. She ceased to be Luie Pallidino that day and was forced to take on another identity. She had liked her life in Livorno, her life with a family. Now, she paced the halls of another hospital, worrying over a man she should hate. Noin was not certain what made her stay behind when the other cadets returned to the barracks. She simply couldn't leave until she knew Instructor Treize was all right. 

The girl leaned against a wall and began chewing on a thumbnail. She stared ahead blankly for a few moments before becoming aware of someone watching her. Noin turned and spotted a young boy, about 8 she figured, staring at her. He was a bit mussed, his vest and shorts terribly wrinkled. He continued to stare at her with large blue eyes, no feeling apparent. His lack of emotion concerned Noin and she walked to him. He might be in shock.

"Are you all right, little boy? Are you hurt?"

The boy looked up at her from beneath chocolate colored bangs and shook his head.

"Are you lost then? Can I help you find your mama?"

"I don't have one."

Noin peered down at the smaller child for a few moments more, puzzled by his demeanor. As she gazed into his blue eyes, the girl felt a sharp pain in her head. It was one of _the_ headaches. It had been a very long time since Noin had one of those headaches and she had grown unaccustomed to the wave of dizziness that followed. Her hand flew to her temple and she swayed slightly. She groped for something to grab hold of as a sudden burst of images and voices flooded her mind. She gasped as the memory flashed and dissipated. The boy. Noin opened her eyes and looked down at the boy. The brown hair, the blue eyes and pale skin. He looked like the other boy.As another wave of dizziness overtook her, the boy took her arm and steadied her. Noin recovered her balance and stared down at the little boy.

"There you are, boy. I thought I told you to go. We cannot have vagabonds lurking in our hospital…" An orderly marched toward the boy as he spoke, determined to send the child packing. Noin threw her arm around the boy and moved him to her side. 

"What do you want with my brother?" It was the best lie she could think of to protect the boy and Noin hoped it would be enough. If not that, maybe her Specials uniform would do the trick. That uniform seemed to come with a lot of built-in perks.

"He's your brother?" the orderly asked suspiciously.

"That's what I said isn't it? Now, why are you bothering my little brother?" She put a hand on her hip, and put on her most militaristic scowl. The orderly was at least 6 feet tall and weighed over 250 pound. At the sight of a Specials Uniform, he cowered. Noin fought the urge to snort at the man's reaction and continued to stare him down. 

"I'm sorry. I thought he…"

"Well, obviously, you thought wrong. My brother and I are here to visit His Excellency. I'm sure Duke Treize would be _ever so pleased_ to hear of your hospitality."

The orderly swallowed, "I'm sorry for the mistake." He quickly trotted off, leaving Noin snickering behind her hand. She looked back down at the boy, still standing under arm and smiled hesitantly. He looked up at his protector with mild curiosity, a slight frown creasing his features. 

"What's your name?" Noin asked gently.

The boy said nothing for several moments and Noin was about to ask again when he spoke up. "Odin."

"Odin. That's a nice name. Are you lost Odin?"

"No."

"Are you waiting for someone?" Noin suddenly became concerned as another idea occurred to her, "Are you waiting for someone who got hurt?"

Odin glanced down the hall towards the emergency room and turned back. "I'm waiting for my grandfather to pick me up."

The two children looked at each other for several minutes, each unsuccessfully trying to figure out the other. At length, the girl reached down to take the little boy's hand. "You hungry? I could use something to eat. Why don't you let me buy you a milkshake?"

Odin allowed himself to be led down the hall by the strange girl. He wasn't afraid of her, he was afraid of very little, but something about her disturbed him. He couldn't quite decide what it was. Maybe the way she seemed to get sick for a minute when she first saw him. It reminded him of the headaches he got sometimes. Or maybe it was how she lied to that orderly and pretended to be his sister. He didn't know why she did that. Most people didn't care what happened to a stranger. Once or twice he glanced up at the girl and down at the hand that grasped his firmly. He didn't need his hand held, he wasn't a baby. So why didn't he pull away?

The most troubling part was the girl was one of _them. _He and the real Odin had been sent to destroy them. When Odin was shot, the boy took his place, carefully aiming the missile at the colony's command building and setting it off. If that mobile suit had not stepped in the way, the building would have blown up. All of the people in uniforms would be dead now…including the girl, he realized. Afterwards, he followed the ambulance to this hospital. He knew the real Odin was dead before they picked him up, but he followed anyway. When the adults weren't looking, he snuck into the morgue to see the dead man. Little Odin couldn't understand why he did that. The man was dead, the boy should have left him and reported in, but he couldn't leave. 

They entered the large cafeteria and started down the line. The girl pulled out two trays and began filling them, asking him what he liked and, when he didn't respond, filling up the tray with various foods and deserts. She continued to talk as they made their way down the line, occasionally asking him questions. He answered some, ignored others and watched the girl closely. Her name was Noin, he discovered and she was waiting to hear about her instructor, the man she referred to earlier as "His Excellency." The Noin girl filled his tray to the brim with all manner of foodstuffs. On her own tray Noin placed a hamburger, fries and one very large slice of chocolate cake…all the things Odin was never allowed to eat. It was unhealthy food, he was told. It would make him weak.

"You like chocolate milk?" Noin reached out and took two cartons.

"Never had it."

"You've never had chocolate milk?" The girl seemed amazed by his confession. "Well, you'll just have to try it!" She plopped one carton on his tray and the other on her own. 

They walked to a table, carefully balancing the array of dishes crowding their trays and sat down. The girl removed her forest green jacket and tossed it in a nearby chair. Odin watched as the girl opened his milk for him and put in a straw. Noin fussed over him, tucking a napkin in his collar and cutting his hamburger in half for him. The boy watched her carefully. No one where he lived ever treated him like a little kid, he wasn't sure he liked it. Where he lived, everyone expected him to do things for himself. If he couldn't, he did without until he learned. That's how he would become strong, they told him. Doing things for himself and not letting anyone help. 

Odin began to eat the food before him. The people he lived with also taught him to eat when he had the chance, never turn down the opportunity to refuel. The hamburger squished when he bit into it, coating some of his fingers with ketchup and mustard. The Noin girl giggled and helped him wipe his fingers. He tried the chocolate milk at her insistence and found that it was pleasant. Actually, it was pretty darned good. He would have to ask the people he lived with if chocolate milk makes you weak. 

They talked for a little while and Noin shared her chocolate cake with the younger boy. He found that he really enjoyed chocolate. Maybe he shouldn't bother with asking if chocolate made you weak. He should just perform his own experiment. Young Odin looked up at the sound of Noin's laugh. She held his chin and dabbed a napkin at the chocolate residue clinging to his face. "Try to get more in your mouth next time," the girl giggled. No body ever giggled where Odin lived. He was listening to the girl talk when he spotted the doctor enter the cafeteria. The old man scanned the crowd until he caught sight of Odin. The boy stood to leave.

"My grandfather is here."

Noin stood and turned. "Where?"

Odin pointed to an old man standing in the doorway. He was a horrific sight. Where the old man's arm should be was a rather frightening looking, claw-like apparatus. His eyes were covered with dark glasses, but Noin detected the glint of more implanted metal. The old man limped forward a few paces and motioned to the little boy. For some reason, Noin wanted to grab the child and run. She admonished herself for reacting in such a way to someone with a handicap and instead bid the boy good bye. She smoothed Odin's hair out of his eyes and straightened his vest. 

"Thank you for eating with me, Odin."

The boy said good bye and dutifully walked to the doctor. They had a short discussion about the events of the past hour and started back down the corridor. Odin looked back at the Noin girl as she cleared away their trays and put on her jacket. She was one of the people in uniforms, one of the people he was supposed to hate. She wasn't anything like the horrible monsters the doctor always told him about. She was pretty and nice and giggled…but she was a soldier and he was supposed to hate her. He had to hate her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Noin puzzled over the strange boy named Odin as she walked back towards Instructor Treize's room. He was a strange little boy. He seemed not to be able to react to anything. She had tried to talk to him while they ate, but half the time he didn't seem to be paying attention. And that grandfather…Noin shuddered involuntarily at the image. She sat down and rested her head in her hands. She had another memory because of the boy, but she wasn't sure what to make of it. It had been quite a while since she had one of her headaches.

Her train of thought was interrupted as a nurse emerged from His Excellency's room. Noin shot to her feet, and anxiously approached the nurse. 

"Ma'am? Is Instructor Treize…I mean His Excellency going to be all right?"

The nurse gave Noin a wry smile. "Oh, he's going to be just fine." The young woman's smile faded a bit as she realized it was one of the cadets who accompanied the duke to the hospital several hours ago. "Have you been waiting all this time, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am…I went to get something to eat downstairs, but I just wanted to make sure…"

The nurse placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "He's going to be just fine, my dear, don't you worry." She smiled reassuringly at the younger girl and said, "I'm Leia. I'll be taking care of your instructor while he's here."

"I'm Noin." The girl held her hand out politely and smiled as she shook Leia's hand. 

"Would you like to see him?"

"I don't want to disturb him, I just…"

"Nonsense. He'll be pleased for the visit, I'm sure. You wait here while I check"

Leia stepped inside, smiling. Treize, pleased to have his angel of mercy back, smiled back. "You grace me again, Miss Barton."

"You have a visitor, Mr. Kushrenada." At Treize's raised eyebrow, she corrected herself, "_Treize_. She's been waiting since you arrived."

Leia stepped back and allowed young Lucretzia Noin to enter. The girl walked in hesitantly, hovering near the door as though she would dart away at any moment. Treize smiled and waved her over. He was pleased that someone cared enough to remain behind for an update on his condition. He nodded in appreciation as Leia left.

"Cadet Noin. It was kind of you to visit."

"I'm glad you're all right, Your Excellency." Noin replied quietly as she took a seat near the bed.

"We're not in classes right now, Noin, why don't you call me Mr. Treize."

Noin smiled and nodded. They spoke for a few minutes about the battle and its aftermath. Treize was pleased to learn that the attack stopped shortly after he passed out and there were no more casualties. 

"You should be very proud of your performance, Noin. I am."

Noin smiled in spite of herself. He was proud of her. It shouldn't matter to her what he thought, but she was pleased. Her mistrust of the young man had been cracking and crumbling for weeks now. She was beginning to admire the brave young officer, respect him and even trust him a little. He was proud of her. She frowned and looked at her hands, allowing her longish bangs to obscure her face. She didn't think she behaved all that well during the battle. She had been frightened.

"I don't think I performed all that well sir…I was scared."

"Of course you were, so was I."

Noin looked up. Was he trying to make her feel better? "You, sir?"

"Naturally. Only an idiot is not afraid in battle. One must be insensible not to fear in such a situation. The key is to work through your fear, use it to sharpen your senses…which is exactly what you did. If you weren't afraid, it wouldn't take courage, would it?"

The girl fell silent and the two sat in silence for several minutes. Treize was truly proud of all of his cadets. They had behaved admirably, proving their worth. They would make excellent OZ officers, but Noin in particular. She was still very young, yet demonstrated the characteristics common to all good soldiers. He had observed her closely over the past few weeks, taking careful note of her reactions to the Alliance military. She adopted quite a little attitude around Alliance regulars. Clearly she bore them nothing but ill will, but that did not necessarily mean she would accept the ideals of OZ. She seemed an independent sort, brilliant and creative. Good qualities for a person, but troublesome in a soldier expected to follow orders without question. Noin would never be such an officer. She would question everything, demand proof of their correctness. Just the kind of person to keep Treize on his toes. 

"I would be nice to play a game of chess about now, hmm?"

"Yes it would. I love chess." Noin smiled as she briefly glanced up at the young man.

"So do I. I'm sure you would be a challenging opponent…you certainly proved to be so in fencing."

Noin was spared the need to comment as Leia reentered. "Anyone for chess?" She asked brightly, holding up a small box.

Treize leaned towards Noin and whispering coyly, "Beautiful and she can read minds, as well. I think I'm in love." Noin giggled.

Leia turned at the sound to find Treize and Noin looking at her in amusement. "All right you two, it's not nice to have private jokes."

The nurse wheeled the hospital table forward and set up the game. "One game and then Mr. Treize needs to rest, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Noin and Treize responded simultaneously, laughing as Leia rolled her eyes and left. 

They played for a while, chatting about trivial matters before Treize gradually eased the conversation towards the Specials. His questions and comments became increasingly cryptic as he tried to determine once and for all if the girl was capable of being loyal to OZ…to him. Noin was clearly becoming puzzled by his comments and finally stopped mid-move and looked at her instructor.

"Mr. Treize what are you trying to ask me?"

Treize smiled at the question, pleased that she was able to tell something was going on. This was it. He had to ask the question now, bluntly. "If you had the chance to destroy the Alliance, would you take it?"

The question jarred Noin. She sat in stunned silence, peeking up at her instructor through her hair. It was something she thought about often, demolishing the Alliance. Ripping it apart as it had ripped her life apart so many times. The answer to his question was simple. She did not answer because she did not know why he asked. Was he trying to trap her? Had Lady Une told him what she said that night they fought? If he knew how much she hated the Alliance, why had he treated her so well during classes? Why didn't he have her thrown into prison? The answer whispered in the back of her mind, but she dared not believe it. Could he hate the Alliance too? Noin quickly ran over the past few weeks in her mind. Treize was difficult to read, but he always seemed to treat Alliance officers with polite condescension. On the other hand, His Excellency treated his Specials officers with respect. She was terribly confused now, but decided to take a chance and answer truthfully. Worst case, she would have to run away before her training was complete. She wouldn't let these people run her in circles for the rest of her life. 

"Yes." 

Treize looked at the expression on the girl's face. She did not flinch or look away, did not cower. She looked him straight in the eye, defiantly, daring him to do something. It was the precise reaction he was hoping for. Cadet Noin looked him in the eye for the first time since they met. It took a great deal of courage for her to make that admission and….

With a jolt Treize suddenly realized who he was looking at. It was the eyes. Large violet eyes. Her hair was much shorter, she had grown taller, but it was definitely _her_. Great God. It was Prince Milliardo's little songbird. How could he have missed it? Treize smiled softly at the girl's still firm expression, wondering how she would react to know her prince was alive and well and in Treize's keeping. Zechs. How would he react to see that his little orphan girl had made it out of Cinq? Well, he would just have to see about reintroducing them. But not yet. The gears in Treize's mind spun rapidly. A surprise like this had to be handled carefully, especially since he was not supposed to recognize either child. He couldn't simply call up Zechs and blurt out the good news. He had to plan their reunion carefully. First things first, however. He had to convince the girl to join OZ without fully revealing the organization's objectives. She might be eager to fight the Alliance, but she was not quite trustworthy.

"Cadet Noin, have you heard of the Lake Victoria Academy?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++ End Chapter 2 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

#1 Sorry if Treize came across as a little vain, but lets face it…Treize is a little vain.

#2 I used the Episode Zero mangas as _inspiration_. I didn't use the plot _exactly_ as presented in the manga. In other words, I tweaked it.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or emailed me about the first chapter! I can't tell you guys enough how much I appreciate your comments, suggestions, and pointing out things that needed to be corrected! I think I've fixed most of it with the exception of the part about chess. I didn't know how to rewrite it without making that part too long, but thank you for telling me! I'll know for next time (already used it in this chapter). I've only played chess rarely and have to be reminded of the rules every time. Anyone who has IM'd with me knows my thought processes are far from logical or linear. 

Now an amusing story that I thought you guys might appreciate. I was driving my cousin (the Evil Chibi) to Wal-Mart (no, that's not the funny part) and we were stopped at a red light. Around here there is a shipping company called _M.S. Carriers _(there really is). As we were waiting for the light, an _M.S. Carriers_ truck sped through the intersection (it even had a tarp strapped to the top) and the Evil Chibi and I both pointed and screamed, "IT'S A GUNDAM!!!" at the same moment. I had to pull over, we were laughing so hard.

For all of those who asked when they're going to meet up again…hehehe…I'm not telling…[ducks as a toaster flies by, narrowly missing her head]…Ha! Missed m…[loud clanging noise as the Evil Chibi sneaks up behind & smacks Lady Dante with a shovel]

_Disclaimer:_ There will be no disclaimer with tonight's episode due to [looks at authoress, who is still unconscious] technical difficulties.


	3. Tomorrow

Still Grows the Lilac

AN: Hulloooo! Well, my concussion is healed. ACK! No more toasters & rusty sticks & voodoo curses, PLEASE! The attempt to hypnotize me _was_ creative, but still didn't wor…{zzzzzzzzzzz}…Huh?… Ahem. Anyway. I have Support Services & if you have me on Author Alert you will continue to receive updates on my stories regardless of whether or not you have Support Services. So don't freak out & think they're charging you for anything. Also, there is a teeny twist of implied citrus in the first part (I had to explain Marimeia _somehow_, but it's still PG-13). If it's corny or just plain bad, please tell me _now_ before I write another such scene. I'm always afraid those will turn out silly & there is nothing worse than a badly written love scene. On a personal note, I've had major computer problems the past couple of days & with all that drama, I haven't had a chance to respond to your e-mails (sorry again!), but I'm working on it. Can you be arrested for computercide? No? Goody…P.S. Titian (pronounced tish-an) is a shade of red. That'll make sense in a minute. THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!!!! I know I say that a lot, but I really mean it. To all the new readers: welcome to the land of incredibly long author's notes & wacky disclaimers! To my faithful readers: I appreciate your patience & continued support! Umm, what else….hmm…..Oh yeah the ever-annoying disclaimer:Don't own, don't sue or I'll sic my sick computer on you. Believe me you don't want to deal with a recently serviced & very cranky Mr. Computer, especially when he hasn't been defragged in a while. 

Still Grows the Lilac 

The Lilac Princess, Book II

By Lady Dante

Chapter 3: Tomorrow 

"Is there anything you can tell me about it?"

"I really think you should see it for yourself, Treize." Johnny raised an eyebrow, a sign to Treize that the communications line was not secure enough in his brother's opinion and the report would have to wait. What ever it was Johnny found, it must be extraordinary to warrant such paranoia. 

"Very well. I'll listen to the rest of your report when I return."

Johnny saluted. "Yes, Oh Caped One."

"And here I thought we might have an entire conversation without sarcasm."

"You're such a dreamer. When you get back, I'll treat you to a belated birthday bash."

"At one of the finer drinking establishments, I assume."

"Where else? Get well, big brother."

"Thank you, Johnny…and Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"The mansion had better be in tact when I return."

"Why, Treize, what ever do you mean?"

"I mean do not use the south wing for mobile suit target practice."

"Who _me_?"

Johnny smirked evilly as Treize flicked off the vidphone. The young colonel shook his head, wondering what mayhem his brother had inflicted upon the household and how many servants would quit this time. Zechs was assured of a little fun. Treize just hoped he could return before his high-spirited brother completely reversed all of Zechs' training. Then there was the matter of the wine cellar. When Johnny was around, Treize's precious stock of fine wines and brandy was in mortal peril. There was nothing he could do about that for the moment, so Treize let the thought pass from his mind and replaced it with one far more pleasant. 

"Good Morning, Treize. How did you sleep?"

Leia. His Excellency was astounded by the woman's timing. The young nurse always seemed to appear just as the young duke's thoughts turned in her direction. Treize smiled and chatted amiably, watching Leia glide about his hospital room. She opened the curtains, allowing the morning light to flood the dreary gray room. The vision of Leia's slender form outlined in the sunshine was almost too exquisite for words, far surpassing any flower, painting or lovingly rendered sculpture. Treize noted the way the light lit up her titian hair, creating something of a halo effect around her angelic face. God was indeed an artist and women seemed to be his specialty.

The young duke was a man who appreciated beauty in all of its forms, from masterworks of the Renaissance to the simple elegance of a perfect rose in bloom. He found beauty in the oddest places. It existed in the cold blanket of snow that covered a winter battlefield as well as the graceful cruelty of a tiger chasing its prey.There was even a kind of beauty to the aftermath of war, before the smoke cleared to reveal the carnage, when the flames of destruction still lit the sky. A moment of peace in the devastation and ruin. Leia was that moment of peace for him. One perfect moment of splendor before the bloodshed continued. 

It wasn't simply that Treize found the woman attractive. Stunning women were a common fixture in his world, but Leia Barton was so much more. She had a lovely face and perfect figure, to be sure, but more importantly, Leia possessed a beautiful soul. The rare combination of compassion, wit and energy illuminated the young woman in a way that mere physical beauty could not. She glowed with warmth and emotion. Treize had come to treasure each moment spent with the remarkable young woman who tended his wounds. It was selfish, he knew, but he placated his often-ignored conscience with the idea that Leia only saw a patient to heal. Her noble calling and compassion were all that drew the nurse to His Excellency and he would not allow himself to think otherwise. Therefore, it would not hurt to indulge in a bit of flirting with the fascinating woman. Treize's time here would be short and he was determined not to deny himself such a small luxury.

His life was dedicated to something just as worthy as Leia's calling but, ultimately, Treize knew a great sacrifice would be expected. It was this knowledge that kept the young man from forming any real romantic attachments. He had his diversions, though not as many as some might suspect. Short-lived trysts with noblewomen who cared nothing for him other than the evening's pleasure he could provide. Any thought that he could have something more was quickly dismissed as irrelevant. It was not in his destiny to have such a life. Wife, children, home. These were not meant for men such as Treize Kushrenada. His purpose was higher, harsher, but necessary. He was born to lead the world to a new future, destined to show humanity the error of its ways. In realizing his dream and his destiny, Treize would make the world safe for people like Leia. Pure, beautiful souls who deserved the world he was determined to create for them. Leia deserved everything good and decent…

"Treize…"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring again…I thought we discussed that."

"Not exactly…you discussed, I stared."

Leia smiled in spite of herself. The young man was far too charming for his own good…or hers. "Treize, I don't flirt with patients."

Treize just smiled at her, eyebrow raised slightly. Clearly he was not about to accept that answer. Leia had to admit, she enjoyed the past few weeks caring for the attractive young man. He continued to stare, reclining in his blue silk pajamas…quite an elegant picture really. Incredibly handsome, charismatic, just vain enough to be cute…in another time and place, Leia would have considered herself a goner. 

Treize Kushrenada was an incorrigible flirt, just the type of man Leia had dated in her teens, but she was twenty-two now and too mature to date flirts. Not that dating was an option any more. She was engaged. Leia looked down at her left hand, specifically at her empty ring finger. She never wore the gaudy bauble to work on the pretext that it was impractical. Truth be told, she hated being reminded of her upcoming nuptials. Marrying the son of the colony's administrator was not her idea. Her father—her _dear_ father Dekim—arranged the match. She had railed against the mere suggestion, refusing to allow herself to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, but in the end, Dekim won. He always won, by blackmail or emotional coercion or force. His method or reasoning didn't matter. All that mattered was that she once again acquiesced to her tyrannical father's wishes. 

Leia felt like the beleaguered heroine of a gothic novel. The daughter of a commoner being wooed by a duke, but forced to marry another. She barely spoke to her father now, only acknowledging him when it was necessary. Her time with Treize had helped ease some of that tension. She found herself making up excuses to visit the young colonel during the day. Leia told herself there was no harm in visiting Treize, that she had taken up the role of a big sister to the nineteen year old. Deep down, she knew there was more going on, yet could not bring herself to stop.

While Leia was musing over the cruel ironies of her life, Treize managed to get out of the hospital bed and walk up behind, unnoticed. The woman jumped when the young man put his hand on her shoulder and asked what was troubling her. The pretty nurse smiled and made some inane excuse, but did not sound convincing. Treize swayed a bit and Leia wrapped her arms around the patient's waist to steady him. Alarmed by his sudden weakness, she attempted to move him back to his bed, but the young man resisted, instead wrapping his arms around her in playful triumph. Leia looked up, annoyed by the ruse. She did not need this right now. It was difficult enough to restrict her emotions, she didn't need to deal with Treize making a pass…though it was a pretty good pass, she had to admit.

Treize smiled wryly at Leia as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. He pulled back slightly, then seemed to change his mind and kissed her again. It was a lingering kiss, soft but insistent. The young man drew Leia closer and deepened the kiss with increasing fervor. As his lips finally left hers, Leia nuzzled against Treize's chest, listening to the beat of his heart and the light panting as the young man tried to catch his breath. Leia closed her eyes, trying her best to ignore the wrongness of the whole situation, but she could not ignore the little voice in her head reminding her that the duke was her patient and could be nothing more. Just as she might have given in to her sense of propriety, Treize tightened the embrace and buried his face in Leia's hair, murmuring her name in an ardent whisper. His pajama top was unbuttoned, revealing a smooth span of tanned skin marred only by faded bruises. Leia gave in to her rising need and began to gently kiss the faint marks, slowly making her way to his neck, his chin, his mouth. 

Treize put his hand to Leia's cheek and gently tilted her face up. The couple gazed at each other intently, frozen in a moment and unwilling to make light of their feelings any longer. Leia searched the young man's eyes for any hint of flirtatious amusement. Instead, she saw only warmth and tenderness radiating from the depths of his marvelous blue eyes. Caring tinged with a bit of uncertainty. It wasn't mere lust, he wasn't trying to seduce her. Treize's eyes spoke only of true, deep affection. 

Maybe she read too much into his expression, Leia didn't honestly care. She wanted this, she wanted _him_. She was a prisoner to her duty, but at that moment, she was free. She deserved this one day with a man she cared for and who cared for her in return. It wasn't love, she had no illusions about that. They had not known each other long enough to fall in love, but they did care for each other deeply and that was sufficient. It was more, in fact, than any of the Barton children had been taught to expect.Leia ran her fingers through Treize's golden hair and pulled him down into a passionate kiss, delving into his mouth with bold eagerness. She wanted to remember every moment, memorize everything about him… his taste, his scent, the touch of his gentle hands. Tomorrow he would leave. Treize would return to his life as the darling of Romefeller and Leia would once again play the bride-to-be of a promising young politician. Life would continue, as it should. Tomorrow. For the next few hours, they had each other and nothing else mattered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noin felt a sharp jolt as the troop transport landed and quickly decelerated. When the shuttle came to a complete stop, cadets and officers hurriedly spilled into the isle, eager to be free of the confines of the craft for a few hours. Noin remained in her seat and gazed out the small window, still trying to figure out exactly how His Excellency had managed to talk her into joining the Specials. She had intended to run away when her space training ended. She had it all worked out. Stow away on an outgoing shuttle, make her way to another colony, find a job, establish a life and wait until she could safely return for Zechs. Armed with new technical skills, Noin had been certain she could find work and support herself, even at her young age, but here she sat in that silly, uncomfortable uniform, on her way to one of the most prestigious military schools in the world, Lake Victoria Academy. Breeding ground for the most respected Specials members, repository for His Excellency's handpicked officer candidates and she was one of them. Noin could hardly believe that she was back on Earth and preparing to make a commitment to the military. Granted, the Specials were not just any military organization. In a war-weary world, fearful of anyone in uniforms, civilians looked upon Specials members as heroes. Treize maintained a strict code of honor among his officers, any infringement was met with swift and ruthless punishment. They were, His Excellency insisted, better than anyone else and were expected to behave as such. 

As she watched the crowd of Specials candidates and their keepers enter the private airport, Noin took a deep breath. Their first stop upon arrival on Earth was a short layover in Rome. It was difficult, but the girl didn't disembark the transport but instead forced herself to stay on board and wait. She didn't want to stay cooped up in that flying crate, but could not bring herself to once again walk the streets of Rome. It was too painful. There were too many horrible memories. There was also the likelihood of experiencing another one of her bizarre headaches and she had endured enough of those back on colony x-18999…thanks to that odd little boy with the cold blue eyes and messy brown hair. 

Noin told herself repeatedly that little Odin's resemblance to the other boy was just a coincidence, that the old man was indeed his grandfather and would take care of him. Noin couldn't seem to shake the sick feeling that the little boy was in danger and that she should have done something. The dreams and half-remembered voices increased in frequency over the three months she was in space. Her only reprieve occurred on the journey from the colony to Earth. Those few weightless days calmed her, just as floating in the bath had calmed her in childhood, though her memories of the other boy seemed oddly enhanced. The girl began to rub her temples and concentrated on banishing all thoughts of the boy, Rome or anything else that might trigger a painful flash of memory. She had to sit still and wait for the transport to take off once again, one more stop to pickup the remainder of the new recruits and on to Africa. She couldn't afford to get bogged down in memories now. 

Noin knew, too, that the moment her feet touched the ground, she would run to Sister Marguerite. That was the most difficult part…knowing that Sister was only a few miles away and not being able to see her. The girl knew better than to take the chance. It was still too dangerous. Granted the Alliance hadn't seemed to take any special interest in her now and she was currently part of an entirely different group, but Noin would not risk endangering Marguerite or the other nuns ever again. 

It was as great a sorrow as a relief when the large transport finally started down the runway, slowly at first, speed increasing quickly until Noin felt the familiar push at lift off. She was pleased with herself and her strength. It would have been so easy to give up and run back to the comfort of Sister, to hide in the nun's arms for as long as possible, but Noin resisted. Her life was elsewhere, at least for the moment. One day things would be different and she would be free to visit her friends. She would be free to go back to all the places she loved as a little girl, revisit the all-too-brief childhood she had been forced to leave behind. She could pursue her dreams, become the person she felt God intended. Teach or explore space, perhaps both. One day she would feel safe again. Safe and loved. Upon some distant tomorrow, she could live a real life. Today, Noin contented herself with the respect of her fellow soldiers and the challenge of a new school. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If he still believed in such things as Heaven and Hell, Zechs would say he was damned. A person who is damned has nothing to lose. Risk big to win big. The boy had taken Johnny's advice to heart, or tried to in any case. He found, much to his annoyance, that there were still lingering fears just strong enough to hold him back. He was working on that. One day, he would be able to fight boldly, regardless of the risk. Every day Zechs fought an instinct for self-preservation and his own kind nature. Every day he grew stronger, sharper, colder. On days such as this, however, the boy found it incredibly difficult to maintain the unwavering devotion to revenge he had worked so diligently to achieve. On a day like today, in a place he visited only in dreams.

Livorno.

Zechs was back home, if only for a few hours. He was, at last, on his way to fulfill his destiny. A day in the village by the sea and he would continue his journey to Africa. A day trying not to drown in the memories, to be consumed by the sorrow. The boy had not intended to wander the city, to reminisce, but his weakness got the better of him. So, here he was again, walking the streets of the small town he had loved once, brooding over how far he had come in the last two years…and how far he had fallen away from the boy who once lived in this peaceful town. Still Zechs found himself walking toward the small graveyard behind the church he attended with his foster family. It was the last time he ever attended a church service, the last time he deigned to believe in the possibility of a God. 

His pace slowed as he neared the stone-walled cemetery and the boy suddenly regretted his decision to visit. It was selfish of him, not wanting to visit the grave, but Zechs knew being there would shake his faith in the correctness of his present course. She would not approve. She would have told him that revenge belongs to God, that hate breeds hate, but he was determined not to be swayed. Taking a deep breath, the boy walked through the wrought iron gate into the quaint courtyard. He had a rough idea where the old woman would have been buried, but did not know the exact location. Zechs made his way methodically through the rows of headstones, searching diligently for his target. At long last, he found the stone. Zechs stood at the foot of the grave frowning. It was a pitiful location, haphazardly placed in a back corner, and the stone was a mere brick with a name inscribed. Ingrid Pallidino. His beloved grandmother, if not by blood, certainly by a heart's bond. She deserved better than this afterthought of a grave. Zechs was never able to properly bury the rest of his family--his parents, Captain Damon, Noin--but he could do this one last thing for the woman who raised him. He owed her that much. As the boy knelt to place a small bouquet at the marker, he vowed to find a better resting place for his Nana. Someplace with trees, where the sounds of children playing echoed over green grass and the air was perfumed with lilacs. He would place Ingrid in a garden where she could truly rest, just as soon as he was able…when he graduated the Academy. Zechs Marquise was about to join the ranks of OZ, to fulfill Fate's purpose for him. In a few hours, he would be on his way to Lake Victoria Academy. Until then, the boy who had lived the life of a prince as well as a pauper roamed the picturesque streets of Livorno and remembered. 

+++++++++++++++++

Noin stepped from the small bus onto a cobbled lane. She smoothed the shirt she was wearing, glad to be rid of the stifling Specials uniform for a few hours, and surveyed the street. There were hundreds of such streets in hundreds of such towns all over Italy, but this street made the girl uneasy. Not that it was a dangerous place warranting caution. It was a quiet lane leading down to the shore, winding past a small row of neat little cottages in a quiet neighborhood. What made her nervous was the location. 

Livorno. 

She had not been back since Nana Ingrid died and was unsure as to the wisdom of doing so now. Noin walked along the path, hesitantly at first but increasing her pace as she reached the small house at the end of the block. At length, the girl stood in front of the little house she once called home. She could not use that word now, what made it home was not there any longer. Home was a place for family but her family was gone.

"Lucretzia?"

Noin spun around, alarmed that someone had managed to walk up without her knowing, especially someone who knew her first name. No one ever called her that anymore. It was either "Noin" or "Cadet," nothing else. She turned and found herself staring straight at someone's chest. Noin took a quick, wary step backwards and looked up. It was an older boy, about fourteen years old, with black hair. Noin craned her neck to look up at his face and gasped in recognition.

"Paolo?"

"I knew it was you!" Paolo exclaimed and impulsively threw his arms around the petite girl, lifting her off her feet in a friendly bear hug. 

"Paolo, you…you grew…a lot!" Noin sputtered in mid air, still a bit stunned by the unexpected meeting. 

"Well, I should hope so. It's been over two years, Luie," the boy laughed as he set Noin on her feet.

Two years. Had it really been so long? And she couldn't even remember the last time someone called her "Luie." Noin's surprised expression faded into one of delight. She was glad she decided to sightsee while her group waited for the next flight to Africa, the last leg of their journey to Lake Victoria Academy. She almost stayed at the airport, but decided it couldn't hurt to see her old neighborhood. Unlike Rome, there were few bad memories associated with Livorno and now the girl had the chance to catch up with an old friend. Friend. It felt good to meet someone who knew her as such, someone who remembered when she was a normal little girl and not a soldier. Paolo stood smiling down at her, reminding Noin of a world she had forced herself to forget, and for once, the girl didn't try to push the memories away. It was good to be home. 

"Look at you," Paolo said, gesturing with a flourish, "practically a lady now." He smiled delightfully and Noin felt her face grow warm.

"Not quite…at least I hope to grow _a little_ more…" 

They both laughed at her wry comment. The laughter sounded good to Noin…felt good, too. In an instant, Noin let go of her well-practiced soldier's demeanor, the outer shell of duty and dignity, and suddenly she was just a thirteen-year-old girl talking to a nice boy. They began to chatter about what had been happening in Livorno over the past two years, enjoying the old camaraderie they once shared. After a few minutes, Noin found herself gazing at the small house and once again losing herself in the warm memories.

"Do you want to take a look inside?" Paolo asked, nodding towards the cottage.

"I just wanted to see the old house once more. I don't want to bother anyone."

"Nonsense. The Lipari family lives there now. You remember Instructor Lipari?"

The older boy took Noin's arm as he guided her to the front door of the cottage as they exchanged recollections of their old school. They were cheerfully greeted by their former teacher and ushered in to join the family for a hearty breakfast. They talked, laughed and ate, happy to see little Luie was safe and sound after all that time. If at any time the conversation seemed it might turn towards the question of Noin's "brother," the girl managed to steer the discussion back to one of the others, asking Paolo how he liked his new position as captain of the soccer team or inquiring after Signora Lipari's elderly mother. By the end of the meal, everyone felt as though they had a nice visit yet no one seemed to know anymore about Noin's time away than they had when she sat down…much to Noin's relief. She was having a very nice time. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of her failure to help Zechs.

+++++++++++++++++

Zechs exited the small cemetery and continued down the cobbled lane, no particular destination in mind. He strolled past the school and the small row of markets he had frequented with Noin and Nana Ingrid, barely looking up as he passed for fear of being recognized. The boy didn't fear for his safety, he feared for his heart. Zechs spent the previous two years carefully creating a wall around his heart, numbing himself to emotional concerns. He was afraid that being remembered in this place would bring that precariously constructed wall crumbling down, releasing every pent up and ignored feeling he possessed. He was not yet strong enough to trust his own ability to control those emotions and tried to avoid any situation that might threaten to crack his frozen façade.

He often sabotaged himself in such situations. Today, for instance, he made a point of visiting every hideout, playground and retreat he frequented with Noin. The tree in the schoolyard they claimed as their "base of operations," the stone retaining wall near the old fortress, the cave where they hid just before running away…and now he found himself standing in front of the very house they lived in so peacefully with Ingrid. It was his last real experience as a member of a family. His life now was tolerable, occasionally even pleasant, but it wasn't happy or peaceful. Treize and Johnny were good friends and guardians, but they were not his family. 

As he stood across the street from the quaint old cottage, Zechs began to grow edgy. It was obvious from the state of the neat yard and the bicycles in the drive that the house was occupied by a new family. One, he was sure, who loved the cozy little house as much as he had once. He wondered if the children played in the cellar as he and Noin had or if the mother marked their height on the kitchen door alongside the small gouges left by Ingrid to testify to another birthday for her grandchildren. Did they sit on the roof in the summer and dream about exploring space and learning to fly? Did the kitchen window still leak when it rained too hard? He wanted so badly to knock on that door and ask for permission to look around, to see the remaining evidence of a long-lost family, to allow himself to remember a comfortable life lived in peace and love. Zechs looked at his hands and began rubbing his palm with a thumb. He couldn't invade that house now, it wouldn't be right. Not anymore. He turned and walked away, determined to allow the dead to rest in peace.

+++++++++++++++++

Paolo and Noin bid farewell to the Lipari family and continued on their journey through the town. At Noin's request, the pair visited the school, soccer field and other places she once played. The walk along the seashore was especially welcomed as it gave the girl the opportunity to shed her hated shoes and walk barefoot through the warm, damp sand. They found a sunny spot on an outcropping of rock and sat down, silently watching the waves advance and retreat in the steady rhythm of nature. Noin watched as one hypnotized, losing herself in the restlessness that invariably welled up inside her soul when she gazed at the ocean. It was all suddenly too much for the girl and she felt the unwanted sting of tears in her eyes. She fought them valiantly, but to no avail. Noin turned her head from Paolo, hoping he hadn't noticed, and fished her handkerchief from her pocket. She discreetly wiped her eyes, smiling sadly at the embroidered initials in the corner of the linen square. It was Nana Ingrid's handkerchief, one of the few mementos Noin was able to keep. 

When she managed to regain control of her tears, Noin turned back to her companion and asked to leave. Paolo nodded, smiling kindly, and suggested they might walk to the cemetery to visit Ingrid's grave. Noin smiled back, grateful that he hadn't mentioned her crying, though it was obvious he had noticed. He seemed to know exactly what was needed to make her feel better, something Noin had not experienced since her separation from Zechs. She had willingly isolated herself from the possibility of friendship for two years, never achieving more than a polite level of acquaintance with anyone. Noin did not realize how lonely she had been all that time until Paolo reminded her what it was like to be in the company of friends, to be with people who cared about her feelings and who were interested in her dreams.

As they walked solemnly to the church cemetery, Paolo paused at a flower stand and bought a bouquet to place on Ingrid's grave. When Noin wasn't looking, the old flower vendor winked at Paolo and held up a single carnation, inclining his head in Noin's direction. Paolo blushed a bit, but purchased the flower. As they walked away, the boy handed his companion the cluster of wildflowers.

"For your nona." At Noin's smile of gratitude, Paolo also presented the carnation. "For you." 

"Thanks, Paolo." Noin smiled up at the older boy fondly, "It's lovely."

The pair passed through the ornate iron gates of the church grounds and made their way through the well-kept plots. Paolo led Noin to a back corner and stopped in front of a tiny marker stone near the wall. Noin knelt and placed her bouquet gently at the base of the small marker, noting another bundle of flowers on the other side. Paolo indicated that several members of the church often cleaned the grave and placed fresh flowers on it in memory of Ingrid, a fact that pleased Noin greatly. She had not felt comfortable with the idea of her nana all alone in the secluded plot, but knowing the community still thought of Ingrid eased the girl's uneasiness. She gazed at the marker and leaned forward to trace the brief inscription.

"I'm home Nana. I was in space for a while. It was so beautiful, Nana…more than I ever imagined…"

Noin began to tell of her life, of the beauty of space and her new assignment to Lake Victoria Academy. She began to speak of her time in Rome with Zechs and suddenly every trauma of the past two years came pouring out in a torrent of repressed sorrow. She began to cry, for once unashamed of the release. She did not even mind that Paolo was standing nearby and heard every word. Noin needed to let it out, all of it. The loneliness of her new life, the grief of losing Zechs, the lingering fear after her first battle. Every thought, fear and dream she could not share with her fellow soldiers. She ended her catharsis with a well-deserved cry, her soft sobs eventually fading into light sniffs and eventually a whispered goodbye to her beloved nana.

Paolo bent down and helped Noin to her feet, keeping her hand in his as they slowly made their way back across the cemetery. Noin did not wriggle free as was her first instinct, but instead gave Paolo's hand a little squeeze of appreciation. Today had been very nice and for those few hours Noin was able to be Luie Pallidino again, just a girl having a good time with a friend. It had been a very long time since she walked hand-in-hand with anyone and she missed the simple gesture. She missed everything about the place, the day-to-day tribulations and triumphs, the simplicity of childhood…all of the things her life in the military would not allow. Her heart felt lighter than it had in ages and Noin was grateful for the small vacation from the bitter realities of her life.

As dusk approached, the pair strolled towards the bus stop and waited, talking about the fun they had that day and promising to keep in touch. Noin had a pang of regret at the suggestion, knowing that it would be safer for everyone if she had no further contact with her old life, but she did not want to spoil an otherwise perfect day. So, she promised to write and tell Paolo all about her life in the Specials. The boy in turn promised to keep Noin informed of all the local news and about his experiences in high school. At some point, the boy had taken hold of Noin's free hand without her noticing and they stood holding hands and chatting until the bus arrived. Paolo gripped Noin's hands tighter as the girl bid good bye and thanked him for escorting her around the little town. Noin noted that he seemed a bit nervous, as though he wanted to say something. She was about to ask what was troubling him when Paolo muttered, "Oh, what the heck," and proceeded to plant a quick but firm kiss on her cheek. 

"Arrivederci, Lucretzia. Please, take care of yourself."

Speechless, Noin simply nodded as she stepped onto the bus, turning to wave once more as the vehicle started. She watched Paolo grow gradually smaller as the bus picked up speed until he was completely out of site. The girl placed a small hand delicately to her cheek, covering the spot where Paolo kissed her. Her brow furrowed as she tried to comprehend why he did that…and why she was so pleased. Paolo, after all, was just a nice boy she once attended school with…a nice boy with lovely dark eyes and wavy hair. She finally sat down, twirling her carnation between her fingers, and was embarrassed to see just about everyone on the bus staring at her. Some simply smiled, others chuckled, one elderly woman winked and said, "Nice catch, cara." 

Noin didn't need a mirror to know her face was turning twelve shades of red. 

+++++++++++++++++

"Your Excellency." Johnny, mindful of the scores of subordinates scurrying around, formally saluted his older brother, Treize Kushrenada. "Good to have you back, sir. You seem to be recovering well."

The duke returned the salute. "Thank you, Lieutenant and, yes, I am recovering quite well." 

The young men continued to make small talk as they walked across the tarmac to a large hanger on the opposite end. As they entered the relative privacy of the large warehouse-like structure, the two dropped all formalities and took up the familiar banter of brothers.

"What is so very important, Johnny, that you had to interrupt my comfortable convalescing?"

"Found yourself a pretty nurse, huh?" Johnny had meant it as a joke, but a fleeting look of sorrow grazed his older brother's elegant features and the younger man wisely decided not to pursue the matter. "I think when you see what I found, you'll be very glad I interrupted your nap." 

They walked to a colossal doorway at the end of the hanger and Johnny keyed in his code at the security panel. The door slid open with a metallic wail, revealing the cause of all the secrecy and paranoia. Inside, almost filling the enormous chamber, was a mobile suit, but quite obviously no ordinary mobile suit. Its appearance alone set it light-years apart from any model currently in use. The exterior was designed bring forth the image of a fearful dragon from fairytales. Large, spiked wings protruded from the back, a segmented whip lay neatly aligned with the suit's body. The armaments seemed comparable to current military standards, but overall, the blood-red suit was far from standard issue. According to Johnny, there was an odd program installed in the system, one that no one seemed to be able to understand quite yet. Treize walked around the suit slowly, examining the remarkable design of the ominous machine. 

"Well, whoever created this certainly had an interesting aesthetic."

"Ya think?" Johnny replied sarcastically. Only Treize could be impressed with such an evil-looking device. "So what do we do with it?"

"First, brother, we figure out how it works," Treize gazed up at the menacing mobile suit looming before him, "then we use it."

+++++++++++++++++

Zechs had been at Lake Victoria for three months before he started noticing the initials. The incoming class had been divided into two groups, alphabetically A-M and N-Z. Each section attended separate classes, ate at different times, generally had little contact. It was a reasonable command on Treize's part, considering the huge number of cadets who entered that term, but it had the annoying side effect of creating two separate "camps" of cadets vying for top status. Normally, Zechs found little competition among the other students. Not that he felt superior to his fellow cadets, just that he had been training much longer than the rest and had honed his skills. Gradually, as the class standings shifted and settled, he found himself consistently at the top of the lists whenever scores were posted. His initials and student code were almost invariably first. Almost. Zechs began to note another set of initials, LN, hovering just below his, occasionally and with increasing frequency nudging his out of the top spot. 

"MS sims scores have been posted in the cafeteria. Current standings apply through exams."

Zechs followed the crowd of scurrying cadets to the cafeteria, calmly standing aside until the mass of excitement dispersed. He found his name on the list and scowled, one of the few expressions he allowed to grace his countenance these days. His initials were at number one, as expected, but right along side were the initials "LN." Whoever that guy was, he was getting better. They tied this time. After exams, there would be another trial and Zechs was determined not to share top billing again. He was hard pressed to understand how it had happened to begin with. To his knowledge, he was the only cadet who had ever operated an actual mobile suit. The sim chamber was nothing compared to that, so how had this LN person managed to get so good? 

"Cadet Marquise!"

Zechs snapped to and was about to salute until he realized it was Johnny barking at him.

"Oh how I adore making you jump, Zechs-boy." Johnny chuckled at the grim look he was receiving and delivered the message entrusted to him. "His Blondness want to see you in his office."

"When?"

"Nowish would be good."

Zechs started for Treize's office immediately, wondering what might be important enough to the day's schedule.

+++++++++++++++++

"MS sims scores have been posted in the cafeteria. Current standings apply through exams."

Noin fidgeted in her seat, anxious to be done with the boring class and be on her way to the cafeteria. She might have liked the class, ifshe didn't already know half of what the instructor lectured. Noin had been fascinated with astrophysics since she was a small child, studying material adults would have found incomprehensible. Her knowledge was at college level, at least, if not at graduate level. Noin tried her best not to seem bored in the class for fear of appearing arrogant, but on days like this, the girl found it particularly difficult to sit still. It was worse than all those days spent in elementary school, waiting for recess. 

Finally, the instructor dismissed class and Noin dashed toward the cafeteria. She knew there would be an impossible crush of people huddled around the bulletin board and she was determined to be first in line. The young cadet made it to the cafeteria in record time, panting as she flung herself at the list. Scanning quickly, Noin found her name in the first slot…right next to that annoying ZM she kept seeing. Darn it. Since being admitted three months ago, Noin had made it her personal mission to displace that cadet from the top spot. It was, however proving to be very difficult. Noin easily made it to the top in all areas of study, only to find ZM one point ahead, one centimeter closer to the target, always a fraction ahead of her best effort. It was beginning to get on her nerves.

"Cadet Noin!"

Noin snapped to as an upperclassman approached. "Yes, sir?"

"His Excellency requests your presence in the fencing hall, A.S.A.P."

Noin turned and headed for the practice hall, wondering what was so important that she had to skip lunch. 

+++++++++++++++++

"Hello, Zechs. Come in." Treize waved his young friend over to a chair in front of the large desk. Treize smiled to himself. Three months at Lake Victoria and still the children had not met. This was mostly due to Treize's own careful separation of the freshman class. He had no desire for the two to meet quite so soon, certainly not by accident, so he made certain they would not. It had taken him some time to formulate an appropriate plan, one that seemed like a coincidental meeting, yet with the preferred impact. Treize finally hit upon an idea after observing one of the lower-classmen's fencing classes.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"I've been reviewing your scores…very impressive, even for someone with your advanced skill."

"Thank you sir."

"I have noticed that another cadet seems to be rivaling you quite a bit," Treize continued, glancing up to catch his friend's reaction. "Also very impressive. You two seem to be trading first place ranking on a regular basis."

"Not by choice, sir…" Zechs frowned as he paused, then asked, "Sir? Do you…do you happen to know that cadet?"

Treize successfully managed to avoid smirking. "We've met, yes."

"What is he like?" Zechs shifted in his chair and leaned forward. "I mean, what kind of fighter is he?"

"Perhaps you would like to judge for yourself?"

"How?"

"That is actually why I called you in, Zechs. I'm planning a school-wide fencing tournament. You and the cadet in question are both quite skilled and I see no reason for either of you to participate until the semi-finals. Your names will be added to the schedule when I think it is appropriate. I feel confident that you will, eventually, have the opportunity to face the cadet. Interested?

"Yes sir." 

"Very well. Dismissed."

Zechs saluted and returned to classes as Treize left to meet Cadet Noin. When he arrived at the fencing hall, he noted the girl pacing nervously, obviously fearing she was in some sort of trouble. Treize smiled, imagining the look of shocked delight that would grace Lucretzia's face when she saw her prince once again. Zechs' reaction was more difficult to visualize. He had become an expert at restraint, or as Johnny often put it, the boy had a perfect poker face. This was one reason Treize expended so much thought on the perfect method of reintroducing the two. He was anxious to see the young count's emotional mask crack, even just a bit.

"Cadet Noin."

Noin pulled herself to attention and saluted crisply. "Your Excellency. You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes, cadet. I was wondering if you might be interested in a little duel…"

+++++++++++++++++++++

Zechs paced in the men's locker room. Three weeks of duels, eliminating each opponent in turn until no one was left…no one except the elusive LN. He waited impatiently for the match to be called. He had few real challenges among the assembly of cadets at LVA and the idea of fighting someone who might actually defeat him made Zechs unexpectedly nervous. He mentally replayed previous matches in his mind, noting mistakes, reminding himself of successful moves. He was excited to finally face someone of the same fighting caliber, who would challenge his abilities and push him to his limits. Regardless of the outcome, it would be a marvelous match.

"You're up, kid." Johnny stuck his head in the door and nodded at the younger boy. "Good luck. Wish I could stay and watch you win."

"Thanks Johnny." 

Treize had ordered that the fencing hall be completely empty during the tournament's final duel, insisting on acting as referee personally. Zechs put on his mask and gripped the handle of his fencing foil. The boy took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall. Treize and the other cadet, also masked, were already on the mat, talking quietly. The duke greeted his young friend and called the cadets to attention. 

"En garde."

The match began slowly, each cadet trying to get a feel for the other's style and strategy. The pace quickened and each, in turn, advanced and retreated, moving with more boldness and skill as time passed. Soon, the two were dueling in a flurry of blades, the sound of clanking metal echoing through the empty hall. Parry, thrust. Advance, retreat. The match continued for what seemed like hours, the participants so perfectly matched that neither found a weakness to exploit. The frustration built steadily within each cadet, pushing them to the edge of anger. They fought their emotions, well aware of the danger of allowing the distraction. A duel should be fought with cold calculation, not passion. The infuriating equality between them eventually got the better of the cadets and each lunged forward, eager to take a chance and end the stalemate. One cadet ducked as the other sidestepped, both brought their blades up at the same moment, scoring a legal hit at precisely the same instant. An eerie silence fell over the room as the cadets stood unmoving, their blades pressed into each other. After a tense moment, Treize declared a tie and congratulated his young students. 

"Well done, both of you." He glanced from one to the other. "I suppose it is time for introductions, yes?" 

The cadets stepped away from each other and saluted just before Treize spoke again. 

"Cadet Lucretzia Noin, I'd like to present Cadet Zechs Marquise." 

A soft gasp drifted over from the girl's direction and the boy visibly stiffened. The jerked their masks off in the same second, dropping the headgear and their foils to the ground with a violent clatter. Treize studied the two for a short time, pleased with the success of his plan. The prince and the songbird, reunited at last.

"Well, I shall leave you two to get acquainted." Treize bowed and made his way to the exit, barely acknowledged by the stunned cadets. "There are hundreds of cadets waiting to hear the outcome of this match. If you'll excuse me."

Zechs stared in disbelief. It couldn't be her…but it was. He watched as the girl's stunned expression softened to one of pure delight. Large violet eyes sparkled as a shining smile spread her cherubic face. Noin. Bright, kind, giggling Noin was alive. A burst of pure elation blossomed in the young boy's heart, only to be quickly marred by an equally sudden surge of self-loathing and shame. Oh God, why now? Why did he have to see her _now_? He couldn't be her friend now. Not _now_. It was too late. He had fallen too far, committed the most heinous crime man is capable of…he killed. She couldn't find out, he couldn't allow her to know. Noin would hate him, he was certain of it. He could endure almost anything—but he could not bear her hatred. It was the one thing he was sure would destroy him. Without realizing it, the boy began to rub his palm roughly, unconsciously trying to erase an invisible stain that could never be removed. 

Zechs continued to stare at the girl in shock as she approached, his shame building with her every step.Noin was the last link to a life he thought was gone forever. The physical reminder of a boy who died, even as he killed. Now here she was, smiling at him with such joy, peeking from beneath unruly locks of raven hair. The same shy look she gave him when they first met in that forest so long ago, when she first timidly used his secret name. The fairy princess who saved a little boy from loneliness. Noin stopped in front of him, offering her hand and, once again, her friendship…dressed in white, the picture of innocence. Zechs felt the knot in his stomach tighten, sickness rising in his throat threatening to choke him. He was a vile murderer. He couldn't taint Noin with his weakness and anger. He couldn't…

"Congratulations, Zechs."

Noin smiled at the boy, glowing with every ounce of happiness she felt. He was alive. She knew it all along, deep in her heart, but it didn't lessen the shock. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon, but always knew it would happen. The boy had grown quite tall during their separation, now standing several inches above her. His cloud-white hair was a bit longer, floating about his face in messy layers to almost hide his sky-blue eyes. Zechs was home. She started towards him, half believing it was a dream that would burst at any moment. Noin had to make sure this was real. She stood in front of her dear friend, the first person she ever cared about. Zechs was alive…the boy who saved her from a lonely journey through a cold world, who risked his father's wrath to be her friend, the Prince of the Clouds. Noin had to tilt her head up to look at his face. He was rubbing his palm idly and looked every bit as astounded as Noin felt. The girl smiled radiantly and held out her hand, congratulating Zechs on a good match. He hesitated for a long moment before accepting the gesture, barely enclosing her small hand before quickly releasing it. 

"Good match, Cadet Noin," Zechs said coldly as he turned to stalk out of the practice hall.

Noin froze as Zechs left her standing alone on the mat. Her friend's aloofness struck the girl with the force of a hand across the face but infinitely more painful. Noin was too stunned to move and could only stand there, watching her best friend walk away. Walk away as though she meant nothing to him. Noin's brain screamed at her to go after him, to call after him, do something…_anything_…to keep him from leaving. She couldn't bear the thought of being separated from Zechs again, but her body ignored the frantic pleas of her heart and the girl remained motionless, frozen in place like a statue. A single tear slid down her cheek as Zechs exited the fencing hall. The sharp crack of a door slamming echoed through the building, mocking the sound of a broken heart.

+++++++++++++++++ End Chapter 3 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

…[sound of crickets chirping]…


	4. chapter 4

All right, show of hands. Who thinks Lady Dante is an evil cliffhanger monster who should be hunted down with pitchforks and torches? Hmm. That's all? Okay, who thinks she should have cyber rocks thrown at her head until she rectifies the situation between Zechs and Noin? Wow. That many. Okay, majority rules…

Still Grows the Lilac 

By Lady Dante

Chapter 4

"Good match, Cadet Noin."

Treize shook his head sadly as he watched Zechs Marquise stride out, leaving Lucretzia Noin standing alone in the middle of the enormous practice hall. That did not go well at all. Not at all. He had excused himself at the earliest moment on the assumption that the pair would converse more freely if left to themselves. His Excellency walked around to the side door to observe undetected, hoping to view the joyous reunion of two childhood friends. What he witnessed was no less than brutal.       

He watched as the cadet sank to her knees, tears slipping down porcelain cheeks as she struggled to contain her sobs. Treize's first instinct was to go to the child, offer her comfort, but he knew Lucretzia Noin well enough to understand that would not do. She was too proud. It was more likely the girl would be humiliated to learn anyone observed her in such a state. He remained concealed, watching from afar as the girl took a deep breath and willed away her sorrow. Noin hurriedly swiped at her face and stood rigidly, walking slowly back across the mat to retrieve her mask and foil before exiting to the girls' locker rooms. 

Treize quietly closed the door and walked away, puzzled by his ward's behavior. He knew the boy had become hardened in the past few years, but Treize had not thought him cruel. Perhaps Zechs did not recognize his little songbird, it had been many years since they last saw each other. This thought was dismissed as quickly as it sprang. Treize remembered watching them the day of their sixth birthday celebration. They were inseparable.  Zechs could not have possibly forgotten that violet-eyed girl with the heavenly voice. 

The young duke's brow furrowed at another memory. His uncle had been uncommonly interested in Lucretzia the day of the celebration. Treize had never determined why and ceased wonder about it after Cinq's destruction. He assumed that the child, like so many others, had perished in the ensuing holocaust and was no longer deemed a problem to his uncle. In any event, Dermail never brought the matter up again and Treize wasn't about to renew the old man's interest until he found out what was going on with the girl.

Hiding Zechs from the old duke for the past two years had been difficult enough. Treize knew, as Zechs did not, that Dermail had a hand in Cinq's annihilation and eventually learned why. The old man's schemes were quite impressive, something to be admired, even if the methods were occasionally repugnant. Dermail intended to restore the disenfranchised nobility through Romefellar and was willing to sacrifice his own kind to further his own goals. As much as Treize regretted the death of beautiful Queen Katrina and her daughter, he could not discount the effectiveness of his uncle's malicious plan. The destruction of the royal family did serve its purpose. The disjointed aristocracy came together to form one united front after the attack. The Alliance, on the other hand, began to suffer in-fighting in the years subsequent. There were now factions representing a myriad of different interests, from the more peace-minded liberals who followed Eduard Noventa to the fascist hardliners like General Septum. The great Alliance military machine was beginning to trip over itself.

In light of global events, it didn't seem sensible to encourage a relationship between two of his best recruits. Perhaps his ward's behavior was for the best. Noin was a brilliant and skilled soldier, but could feasibly return to a normal life after the coming purification…assuming she survived. Zechs, however, was fated for something different. He was as much weapon as warrior. Perhaps it was cruel to allow the boy to form any serious attachments given what his life was destined to become. If Zechs could see past the crimson haze of revenge and renew his bond with the little girl, would he remain an effective soldier? Most likely, not. Regardless, Zechs would eventually be forced to give Lucretzia up. Perhaps it was better to do that now, while they were young. The sands of time could bury such wounds. His own wound was far from covered. 

Leia, his greatest, most beloved mistake. Even now, Treize did battle with his own heart over the lovely angel. It was a bitter struggle, one that he regretted having inflicted upon himself. Men such as he were not destined for love, only power. The pain came in pretending otherwise as he had that night with Leia. Zechs Marquise and Lucretzia Noin could be spared that struggle. Treize clasped his hands behind his back at his final decision. He would not allow the two to become friends again. It would be far too cruel to allow such a thing.

+++++++++++++++++

            Zechs Marquise strode across the quad, fists clenched, teeth gritted. His breath hissed out in short puffs as the boy struggled to maintain his composure. He forced himself to keep going, to move. He wouldn't turn back, he wouldn't allow himself to see her again. He couldn't. It would be the death of them both. Even as his self-loathing told him to flee before he tainted his friend, a small part of his heart rejoiced at seeing Noin again. She was alive. She was well. She grew, though not as much as he. Her eyes were still violet, her hair still glossy black.  

            Noin's fencing had improved considerably. They tied this time. She still tended to take steps that were too large for someone her height, putting her balance in peril. In spite of her old failing, Noin had learned to use her height, or lack there of, to her advantage. If he had been a bit taller, her maneuver would have worked better and affording her the first touch. She was always clever. He should have recognized who he was fighting simply from her technique. She fenced as she lived. Fair but unpredictable. 

            "Stop it," Zechs growled  to himself. He grew irritated with his own weakness. There was no hope for regaining his friendship with Noin, not after what he had become. It was foolish to torture himself in such a manner. He knew he should simply push the girl from his thoughts, but found that part of heart clung to the memory of their lives before the incident in Rome.  There was a time when he couldn't imagine Noin not being in his life. Sister, partner, best friend. She had been such a huge part of his life Zechs had not believed he could survive without her, but he did. Not willingly, but he continued. Losing her had been the means by which he discovered his true path. He was not meant for schools, stories or quiet villages by the seashore. Zechs Marquise was a soldier. He was meant for war.

Noin was part of OZ now as well, didn't that mean she _wanted_ to fight? She had as much reason to crave revenge as he did. They had always been such a good team. Now that they had the proper training and weapons at their disposal, Zechs was certain no one could stand against them. The young cadet ran a hand through his hair roughly. He couldn't allow that. Soldier or not, he couldn't allow Noin to become the cold blooded killer he endeavored to be. He could accept any hardship or sacrifice gratefully if it resulted in the destruction of the Alliance, but he could not accept that for Noin. Her life was worth more. Zechs couldn't allow her to throw it away, no matter how noble and just the purpose. She was a forgiving person. He was not. She believed in a just and merciful God. He did not. She had a strong spirit, full of hope. The boy began rubbing his palm roughly. He had a blackened soul, full of despair and fury. The fact that he had learned to control his rage did not lessen it by any means. In fact, it grew. He nurtured his anger, stoked the flame, used it to fuel a passion to fight. There was nothing left in him worth saving and he couldn't tolerate the idea that Noin might try or, worse, that she would join him in his bloody quest. 

He and Treize had acknowledged long ago that they were destined for bloodshed and martyrdom. They were fated to be the means by which humanity cleansed itself of its warring ways. His life was already surrendered, but Noin's was not and Zechs would not allow her to follow him into Hell. The boy's pace slowed as his mind settled on a course of action. It would be difficult, perhaps even hurt her, but in the long run it would shelter Noin from his growing wickedness. Zechs would simply pretend not to know her, that two years apart had permanently wiped her memory from his mind. Sever all ties, once and for all. No more stories or competitions. No whispered secrets or private jokes. Noin was on her own. Zechs swallowed hard and took a cleansing breath. The girl could live without him, she was stronger than anyone. She would be hurt at first, but in the end Noin would go on without him. It would be difficult to watch her grow up and not be part of it, but Zechs was convinced it was for her own good.  He would protect Noin as he protected his baby sister. He would stay away.

Zechs was suddenly consumed with the overwhelming urge to wash his hands. He made his way to the nearest building and proceeded to the men's room. He lathered his hands and rinsed several times. He turned the cold water off and allowed the stream to heat to an unbearable level before sticking his hands back under. The boy gritted his teeth and soaped his hands again, rubbing them together violently. He was desperate for spotless skin. Desperate to clean it all away. 

+++++++++++++++++++

Lucretzia Noin entered the women's dormitory and made her way slowly to the small room at the end of the hall. Her home. Somehow the sterile gray cell seemed appropriate. Completely devoid of personality, warmth, life. Exactly how she felt at the moment. It had been weeks since her surprise reunion with the boy she thought of as a brother and the shock had just begun to dissipate. The pain, however, remained as strong as that first moment. Noin realized why Zechs had rejected her so coldly then and ignored her now. He hated her. Was it any wonder? She should have realized it sooner, before she made a fool of herself. He blamed her for his capture. It was perfectly just that he should do so. Noin knew it was her fault. If she had been more alert when they entered the church, if she had reacted more quickly to Karl's threat, if she had been faster…if, if, _IF_. Wishing for a different outcome would not change the fact that Zechs had been captured by the very people responsible for killing his family and ruining his life. And it was all her fault. This time, it was _she_ who ruined her best friend's life. 

Upon reaching her quarters, the girl fished under her bed for a small box. Noin sat with the broken music box in her lap, silently running her fingers over the delicate carvings. She cautiously lifted the lid and looked at the damaged mechanism that once played a lovely tune. She had not been able to make herself fix the cylinder in the year since Une flung the box into a wall. She had not been able to open the ornate box at all since that night. The box contained too many painful memories. After a few moments of rummaging through the eclectic contents, Noin pulled out a small cloth bundle. She had preserved it dutifully for almost two years in preparation for her reunion with Zechs. Though it had not been as joyous as Noin expected, at least she knew he was alive and well. She could be grateful for that. 

Maybe one day he could forgive her, perhaps even think of her kindly again and they could be friends once more. She could accept that he would never see her as he once had, but she could not allow herself to believe Zechs would hate her forever. Noin was a person who believed in miracles. He was alive, wasn't he? If Zechs could escape the Alliance, then Noin could hope silently for another miracle. That he would forgive her. In the meantime, she should at least return his mama's locket.

++++++++++++++++++

            Zechs sat in the empty classroom, enjoying the brief moment of solitude. In a few moments the other students would arrive, milling around, chatting amiably. He was never one of those students. He never lingered outside the door, talking to his friends for a few minutes longer before classes started. He never rushed to another building to meet anyone, never arrived tardy because he walked a girlfriend to her class first. It didn't bother the cadet normally, but it did a today. Several times already, he had spotted Noin walking through the halls, occasionally stopping to answer questions. Academically, he and Noin were tied for first. Anyone who was having difficulty in any class knew to ask Cadet Noin as surely as they knew to avoid Cadet Marquise like the plague. 

Zechs had successfully evaded her for weeks, but the beginning of the new semester meant reorganizing the class. He and Noin were now forced to share most of their classes with one another, making it incredibly difficult to remain detached from his former friend. The cadet straightened in his seat as students and the instructor began to filter into the room. 

Zechs glanced out the door just in time to catch another glimpse of the girl. She was dressed in the typical cadet's uniform, carrying an armload of books and trying to blow bangs out of her eyes. He wondered vaguely why she hadn't allowed her hair to grow out again. There was no longer a need to dress as a boy, nor was it possible any longer. Noin's shape was beginning to show the first indications of a more womanly form. Already, most of the males at the Academy had started noticing the dark haired beauty, a fact that suddenly bothered Zechs as he made note of one such adolescent cadet watch Noin entering the classroom. The boy's head snapped around so quickly that Zechs was certain the cadet would suffer whiplash. Such reactions would only get worse as Noin grew into the lovely young woman she was destined to become. Zechs suddenly realized he was also staring at Noin and hastily returned his gaze to the instructor, which happened to be Johnny. Zechs fought the urge to groan at the "I-caught-you-looking" smirk on the young instructor's face. 

Johnny shook his head, grinning, and began the lecture. The lesson was intended to sharpen the student's strategic skills while teaching teamwork and chain of command. The students were to be divided into four teams, mock battle situations were randomly presented to each and a time limit applied for the teams to formulate a solution. Zechs, as he expected, was given command of one of the teams. His crew consisted of four cadets representing different operation stations. One of the cadets was Lucretzia Noin, given the task of manning the communications post. Zechs was careful not to peer at Noin as the group discussed strategy, speaking to anyone and everyone else. The girl seemed not to notice, or chose to ignore, his snubs and offered several suggestions and alternate plans of attack.

"And we should consider the possibility of losing outside communications altogether."

"I hardly think that's likely, Cadet Noin."

Noin hesitated before responding, "I think it is very likely, Zechs." A sharp look from Zechs indicated his displeasure at her use of his first name. Instead of being hurt, Noin was irritated. Maybe she deserved his contempt, maybe not, but this was a mission.  Zechs had no right to ignore her. She had been in battle, experienced the unlikely situation first hand. She had been in action and knew better than anyone in her group, even Zechs,  how unpredictable a battle could be. Noin was angered by his insistence on ignoring every idea she presented.

"We should at least prepare for the possibility." Noin announced, trying to remain professional and objective. 

            "It would be a waste of time and resources."

            Noin decided against insisting on her plan. Technically, Zechs was the group leader. If he wanted to get them all killed, fine. It would be his fault. Arguing would just make _her_ look bad. She sat silent, inputting the information Zechs dictated regarding their plan of attack and defense. It was a good plan, Noin had to admit, but it was a bit reckless. Zechs had always had a streak of impulsiveness. She was always trying to make him see reason. As she finished up the report, Noin's thoughts kept turning to the battle on colony X-18999. The simulation they had been given was obviously based on that event, at least partially. The idea that the instructor would throw something unexpected into the mix nagged at Noin. 

            "I really think we should…"

            "The decision has been made, Cadet Noin."

            Noin clenched her teeth and glared at Zechs. He was as stubborn now as he was when they were ten. This was the first time she found herself on the wrong end of the boy's insufferable stubborn streak. Noin glanced back at the screen and entered the final few calculations. The instructor called out the two minute warning. Zechs leaned over to listen to a question from one of the other cadets in their group and Noin took the opportunity to add her contingency for a communications blackout just as time was called. 

            Each group's plan was critiqued. The details of every situation were read aloud by the instructor, who threw in what he called a 'wild card' to test the cadet's plans. The other three groups failed to satisfactorily deal with the unforeseen events. 

            "That's why we play these games, cadets. War is fickle and not everyone plays by the same rules. You've got to think ahead."  Johnny looked at his clipboard and called on Zechs. "Cadet Marquise. The command center is under attack and…drum roll, please," the lieutenant flipped through his stack of impossible situations and selected a scenario. "And your communications are totally, completely gone."

            "Completely, sir?"

            "Deadsville."

            Zechs handed over the report, grinding his teeth at his folly. He knew Noin's plan was prudent, but he refused it anyway. He wouldn't allow himself to start treating her like a partner. He was too caught up in distancing himself from the girl to notice she had a valid point about the communications blackout. His pigheadedness would cost his team high marks.

            "Good plan, cadets. I see you thought of my little surprise already. Good job."

            Zechs stiffened. She put her idea in anyway. Behind his back. Against orders. He glanced sideways at Noin, who stood straight-backed, chin held high. She was right and she knew it. The corner of Zechs' mouth twitched. Noin was always a superb strategist, able to plan for the worst. If Zechs didn't know her so well, he would assume that the girl was a pessimist, but Noin would insist she was simply a pragmatist. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. As such thoughts played through the boy's mind, the object of his musings glanced over at him. Noin held his gaze for a moment, her eyes communicating an odd mixture of defiance and doubt. She always looked like that when they had a fight. Determined to stick to what she believed, yet unwilling to stand against him. Noin suddenly broke eye contact and looked ahead. 

            "O.K. then. Let's wrap this up," Johnny commented as he looked at his watch, "I've got a date with a mobile suit."

The remainder of the class was spent discussing the errors of the other teams. Zechs sat stoically with his group,  pretending to pay attention as he brooded over his poor leadership. It shouldn't have mattered that he and Noin were barely speaking. He was in charge. A good leader makes decisions without regard for personal conflicts. Then again, a good soldier followed orders. He was mad at himself for his failure. He was mad at her for her insubordination. As class ended Zechs stood swiftly to leave, an unconscious frown creasing his features.

Before reaching the exit, Zechs found his path blocked by Noin. She looked up at him and swallowed hard before speaking. 

"Good job, Zechs. Our team was the only one with near-perfect marks." 

There was no hint of gloating in her voice, but Zechs was still angry at her presumption to disobey his order. 

"Don't congratulate _me_, cadet. It wasn't my idea, remember?"

Noin's eyes narrowed. Zechs saw her jaw set in preparation for a scathing comeback. Instead, she took a breath and said, "That's not why I stopped you…it's our…" She looked up and hastily corrected herself, "it will be your birthday soon and I wanted to give you something." 

Noin pulled the something from her pocket as she spoke and offered it up. Zechs felt a small spark of gratitude. It had been a long time since they had shared a birthday, since he even thought of celebrating a birthday. The small glimmer died as abruptly as it appeared and he simply stared at the girl. It was becoming surprisingly easy to shut her out, to widen the chasm created by their long separation. As Zechs stared blankly, Noin began to look irritated. 

"You needn't worry, _cadet_. I didn't buy anything special…it's just an old  locket I was keeping for a friend." Noin's tone was cool with a tinge of sarcasm. 

Zechs was too caught up in the effort to remain aloof for her words to register immediately. Slowly what the girl said broke through his carefully maintained emotional wall. The young cadet stopped breathing for a moment as his eyes traveled slowly from Noin to what she held in her outstretched hand. A small bundle of soft cloth, showing subtle signs of age, but still dutifully preserved. Zechs hesitantly reached forward and gently took the bundle, unfolding the layers of fabric carefully, as though exposing some ancient treasure. It was a treasure, far beyond price. It was his mama's locket. He thought it had been lost forever, along with Noin. There it lay in his palm, intricate engravings, brilliant silver, delicate chain. The last thing his mama gave him. 

            Zechs looked up, about to thank Noin for saving it, but found that she had already turned on her heels and walked away. He watched the girl stomp off and fought the urge to call her back. Instead, he fastened the locket around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt. One last glance over his shoulder at Noin and Zechs left, whispering, "Thank you, Luie."

+++++++++++++++++++

"Clear the field! Have a Rescue vehicle on standby!"

            Johnny heard the frantic communication between members of his ground crew. He strained against the controls of the crimson suit and fought to maintain altitude. The suit itself was almost beyond his skills as a pilot, but the odd navigational system seemed also to scream into his brain, pushing information into his weary mind faster than he could comprehend. Twice already he thought he had crashed into the hanger bay, killing everyone in sight, only to find he was still flying high above. As skilled as the Specials aviator was, he could not contend with the disorientation produced by the suit's operating system. Raw data crowded his brain, hallucinations threatened his senses. Screams. Were they real? He couldn't tell anymore. The machine itself seemed intent on driving him mad, whispering into his brain: _I wasn't meant for you._ The suit veered away from the testing ground towards a nearby field. Johnny might end up crashing the damned thing, but he was determined not to take anyone with him. 

            The entire machine shuddered as the pilot decelerated quickly, shouting a curse as he maneuvered the suit into a rough landing. The crash was brutal, tossing the young man forward violently enough to break a restraint. The pilot vaguely acknowledged a searing pain in his shoulder as the impact tore his shoulder from the socket. The large mobile suit finally lurched to a halt, coming to rest at the far end of the field. Johnny growled and cursed in frustration. He snatched his helmet off, smashing it into the control board. Sparks flew as the young man ripped at the wires connecting the helmet to the computer, growling in feral rage. His violent movements worsened the damage to his already battered body, spraining muscles, ripping tendons. He didn't care. All that mattered was destroying the object of his wrath. Free of the computer system's influence, Johnny finally began to calm, slowly regaining his composure and ceasing his struggle with the machine just as rescue vehicles arrived. 

Johnny felt drained, unnaturally exhausted, strangely numb. As the emergency technicians carefully removed the young man from the cockpit, he simply stared ahead, as though hypnotized. The machine won again. The damn thing always won. The tests had stretched out over several months now. The computer geeks of the research division still had not deciphered the program completely. Johnny had insisted upon being the only test pilot, as much to be the first to fly the evil-looking machine as to protect his crew. Every test had ended in failure. For some reason, the young officer could not seem to conquer the foreign mobile suit. He refused to give up. He'd beat that thing or die trying.

+++++++++++++++++++++

            Noin paused outside the lecture hall door and allowed the students around her to enter first. Class was about to start, everyone else seemed to be inside, eagerly awaiting their assignments for the mock battle scheduled for the next month. Noin had looked forward to the event for weeks. Lake Victoria Academy war games were among the most intensive training exercises in the world. As second year cadets, Noin and her classmates were allowed their own exercises, but were denied access to the armored vehicles and mobile suits available to the seniors. The activity would consist exclusively of ground troops engaging in direct combat, fighting for the flag atop the mountain on the other side of the lake. 

Such practice was rather like a live action version of chess, much more enjoyable than an actual battle. The fact that Noin had already been involved in such an action and performed well, worked to her definite advantage. She was certain to be put in charge of one of the teams and Noin was excited. Or had been up until an hour ago. She had begun to feel strange. Not sick exactly, but strange. It had been happening off and on for several weeks now along with more headaches. She was becoming disturbed by the episodes. Enough so that she considered consulting the medical staff, an idea that was invariably dismissed.

            The familiar dizziness began to descend over her and Noin leaned heavily against the wall. She concentrated on her breathing, following the air on its path through her nose, into her lungs and back. It was a technique Sister Marguerite taught her to cope with the pain and confusion. Breathe in. Images painfully ripped through her brain. Breathe out. Indistinct voices called to her, shrieking in terror, whispering, beckoning. Breathe in. The sound of waves on the shore. Breathe out.

            "_Il mare mi mette inquietudine…"_

            Finally the feeling passed, Noin regained her balance and was pleased to see only a few moment had passed. The girl took one last breath and straightened her uniform as she started for the lecture hall door. Noin nearly jumped out of her skin upon seeing Zechs Marquise standing on the opposite side of the door, peering at her with that intense, unreadable expression that seemed always to cover his face. She looked straight into his eyes, trying to determine if he had witnessed the episode. It was all but impossible these days for her to figure the boy out. Noin gave up and went inside. 

            Noin walked to the far side of the hall, well away from Zechs, and turned her attention to the instructors. The war games were a highly anticipated event among the cadets. It would be the first real chance to test their new skills, prove their worth to OZ and His Excellency. Once again the group was divided into four divisions, each cadet given a rank and duty station. Noin was given command of her division. Zechs would command another and two more high-scoring cadets were placed in charge of the other groups. The added burden for those in the command ranks was a challenge to their class standings. The subordinates in each group were simply competing for high marks, their leaders were fighting for top class ranking. 

            Once the teams were formed, the instructors informed the groups of their objectives and duties. Each division met for a private briefing before class was dismissed. The four cadet commanders were called back for further instructions. The instructors handed out maps, mission details and other necessary  information.

            "Any more questions, cadets?"

            Zechs hesitated a moment before raising his hand. "Sir, I believe Cadet Noin is too ill for the war games." He felt rather than saw Noin's irate glare. He had expected as much, but knew there would be no point in privately asking her to step down. Her headaches were obviously still a serious problem and Zechs didn't like the idea that Noin might have a spell during the mock battle. 

            "Ill? She looks fine to me." 

The instructor sounded suspicious. It occurred to Zechs that the instructors might think he was simply trying to cut down on the competition. It annoyed him, but Noin's health was more important than his reputation among the staff. Whether or not he could be her friend, Zech couldn't stand back and watchNoin to put herself in needless danger. The episode he witnessed before class seemed more intense than any other he had witnessed. If Noin insisted on continuing, she could get herself killed. Zechs had no desire to completely wreck her standing at the Academy, either, so he chose his words carefully.

"She seemed dizzy just before class…I thought she might have the flu…" It wasn't beyond reason. Their had been a sever outbreak of flu in the nearby villages.

"I'm perfectly fine, sirs," Noin insisted tersely, "I simply felt a bit weak because I skipped breakfast this morning." She glared at Zechs, daring him to continue his challenge of her state of health. "My blood sugar was a little low."

"Well, Cadet Noin, I suggest you make sure to eat breakfast before maneuvers."

"Yes, sir."

"And you, Cadet Merquise, should reserve the diagnosis for the medical staff."

"Yes, sir.

The two cadets saluted and strode off in opposite directions.     

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Our little Zechs has discovered girls," Johnny announced as he limped into Treize's private study. Easing into a nearby chair, the young man nodded enthusiastically as his older brother held up a glass and bottle of whiskey. The younger Kushrenada brother was still recovering from injuries received in his latest attempt to master the mysterious crimson mobile suit. A dislocated shoulder, hyper-extended knees, and numerous contusions still plagued him. The base doctor ordered that he be grounded until his shoulder healed, only allowing Johnny to teach. As much as he liked his students, the young pilot was only truly happy in a mobile suit.

"Discovered girls. Oh, really?" Treize said with interest, one eyebrow arching in amusement. "And what fortunate young lady has caught the boy count's eye."

"Lucretzia Noin."

Treize started and recovered quickly, but not fast enough to escape his brother's notice. 

"You remember her, don't you Treize? She's the one Zechs tied with in the fencing finals."

"Ah, yes. Little Lucretzia. She's an impressive recruit."

"Zechs does have impeccable taste."

"What makes you assume he's interested in Cadet Noin? 

"Well, he ignores her when he can, goes out of his way to be cold…I heard he tried to have her kicked out of war games…sounds like true love to me."

"Ah."

"Funny how those two hadn't met before the tournament."

"Hm."

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you Treize?"

"Hn."

Johnny eyed his brother from his comfortable chair, watching the older man fix their drinks. He knew his brother very well. Monosyllables from the normally verbose Duke Treize meant he was hiding something. However, it was something he didn't wish to discuss just yet. Johnny decided not to pursue, believing that if it were important enough, his brother would eventually unburden himself as he had about the nurse. It had taken several weeks, but Treize did open up about his brief relationship with Leia Barton. Johnny had been rather surprised—and more than a bit concerned—by his brother's reaction. It wasn't like the young duke to retain lingering interest in a woman. Nurse Barton really got to him.

"Don't you think he is a bit young for romantic ties?" Treize handed a glass of whiskey to his smirking brother.

"He's almost fourteen. I'd say it's about time," Johnny took a swig from his glass. "Besides, saying he's too young would be hypocritical of both of us, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Treize conceded with a chuckle, "How old were you when you discovered the charms of the opposite sex? Straight from the womb or did you wait to be weaned?"

"I was three…Joanie MacKinnon…" the young man sighed wistfully, a distant expression softening his features. "She was my babysitter. I used to pretend I had nightmares just so she'd let me sit in her lap and snuggle."

"We Kushrenada men have always preferred older women."

"And they have always preferred us." The men raised their glasses in a silent toast. 

Treize smiled. "By the time I was fourteen, I had half the female aristocracy pursuing me."

"Not to mention their irate fathers." Johnny laughed. "Yeah, I remember that first week we met…"

"…when we snuck out to meet those twin duchesses."

"They were in college weren't they?"

"High school, but they were seniors."

"First time anyone ever accused me of being debauched."

"I had to explain what it meant."

"Good thing their father was such a bad shot."

The men laughed and raised their glasses in another toast. "Here's to poorly maintained skeet rifles."

Johnny emptied his glass and reached for the bottle to refill. "Did you ever 'fess up to your mother about that?"

"Are you _mad_?" Treize held out his own empty tumbler. 

"So she bought that story about highway robbers putting that bullet hole in your jacket?"

"Well, it didn't sound so silly when _I_ related the tale."

"Oh, be serious. Your mother worshipped you. She would have believed anything you told her."

"_Your_ mother never believed _anything_ I told her."

"Cuz she was sharp. She knew a con when she met one and didn't take crap from _anybody_."

"And I admired her for it."

"Here's to our beautiful, beleaguered mothers..."

"…and their debauched sons."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

            It was two days after the command assignments for war games had been distributed when Noin came up with a viable strategy. The goal was to reach the summit of the mountain, retrieve the flag and return to base to present the trophy to His Excellency. Noin's plan was not strictly by the book, but as one of her instructors often pointed out, the enemy didn't always play by the rules either. Her idea would not compromise her sense of honor and fair play, it was just creative. She figured the other groups, Zechs included, would prepare a full on assault, most likely decimating each other in the process. She planned something a little more cautious. Redirecting the other groups, leaving them to fight each other, while her team walked up the mountain and retrieved the flag. The details of the operation were more complex than that, but the overall idea was simple. Get in, get out, nobody on her team gets hurt. 

As she walked across the aviation compound, Noin heard a yelp from the other side of the hanger wall. A loud set of clanging noises followed by some creative expletives both shocked and amused the girl. She walked to the door and ventured cautiously around the corner to investigate. It was one of her instructors. Johnny was his name. Noin recalled seeing Zechs hang out with him a lot.

"Aw, sh…" Johnny looked up at that moment and caught sight of Noin. "…oot." The young man grinned peevishly. "Shoot a monkey. That sure hurt."

His comical tone and pained expression amused Noin enough that she giggled slightly, not something she did much these days. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Uh…yeah. I'm just," Johnny indicated the sling, "temporarily handicapped."

"What happened?" Normally Noin would not have questioned a superior officer on such a personal matter—or any matter—but something about the young man inspired a sense of ease and camaraderie. His reaction confirmed her first instinct.

"Got in a fight with a mobile suit…the suit won." Johnny grinned. "Lucretzia Noin, right?"

"Yes, sir." The cadet straightened and prepared to salute but stopped at Johnny's insistence. 

"Now, now. None of that. We're both off duty….I'm temporarily grounded till this heals, so I thought I'd work on my bike…forgetting it would be easier with _two _hands. I could use a bit of help here, care to assist Lucretzia?"

"I'd be happy to help, Instructor…"

The officer held his hand up. "Johnny. If you're going to take the place of my right hand, you should call me by my name. Besides, 'Instructor' makes me feel old."

"All right, sir…I mean, Johnny. Call me Noin." The cadet gathered the tools Johnny scattered across the floor and knelt beside the bike.

"Got it." Johnny selected a few of the abused instruments and handed one to Noin. "O.K. You're going to take that and use it to tighten…exactly what you're tightening." He paused upon seeing Noin proceed to perform the task without instruction. "Done this before, I see."

"Sister had an old bike we used to tinker with."

"Your sister was a biker chick, huh?"

Noin giggled at the thought of Marguerite in a Hell's Angels jacket. "No, she was a nun. She ran the orphanage where I used to live."

"Oh… Sorry about the 'biker chick' thing."

"That's all right. Sister would think it was funny."

"So what kind of bike was it?"

"Just an old dirt bike, nothing like _this._" Noin gestured broadly in admiration.

"So you know a classic when you see one."

            They chatted for several hours as they worked on the antiquated machine. Gradually, the bike's engine began to take shape. There was still much work to be done and the vehicle needed a new seat. The two discussed possible paint colors, settling on red as the most appropriate for such a fine machine. After a time, both noticed that daylight was gone and the outer spotlights had activated. Johnny checked his watch. Past 8:00.

"Damn," Johnny looked back up as his young companion and smiled sheepishly, "I mean darn."

Noin laughed. "Don't worry, I've heard worse."

Johnny reached forward and mussed the girl's hair, "I knew you were a good sport. Now beat it before you miss room check."

"Yessir!" Noin straightened and saluted before dashing off towards the dorms.

Johnny quickly cleaned up and secured the antiquated motorcycle. He was already late for Treize's party and he still had to clean up. Maybe he could sneak in and make it to his room before Treize realized he wasn't there. A quick wash and change of clothes then down the main staircase as though he'd been there all along. Another stifling evening among the elegant stuffed shirts of Romefellar. Ugh. Oh what he wouldn't give for a good old fashioned kegger. Or maybe he could just hang out in Treize's study…the one with the well-stocked wet bar…

+++++++++++++++++++

            Duke Treize Kushrenada wearily entered his study and divested himself  of his heavy blue jacket and cape. It was a rarity for the young man these days, to appear in anything less than full regalia, but he had suffered through a particularly grueling session with Romefellar's funding committee and was exhausted. Last week, the formal reception ball for General Noventa,  this week , interminable meetings discussing the minutiae of project funding. Hours spent locked in an increasingly tiny room with insipid little human calculators, trying to convince his superiors that more funding should be channeled to mobile suit technology, not operating systems that took control away from human beings. If Treize hadn't already held everyone of those men in contempt, he certainly would have by the end of the day. He needed to loosen up, to change clothes, to have a drink of something exquisitely aged. Stooping, he opened his liquor cabinet and reached for his favorite bottle of…

_Empty_ bottle of cognac. Propped up against the vacant bottle was a note. Treize picked up the crisp white card and read the neat inscription:

_~Thanks for the booze bro! Johnny~_

_That_ was where Johnny disappeared to during the ball. Treize seethed momentarily. He wasn't sure which was more aggravating, the fact that Johnny drained his private stock or that his prodigal brother referred to 75 year old cognac as 'booze.' Either way, it was fortunate that the younger man was away at an auction buying parts for his aged motorcycle. Johnny insisted the decrepit machine was a 'classic work of art.' Treize smiled softly as he poured a glass of fine wine. He could overlook the invasion of his private stock this time considering what his brother had experienced recently. It was the third time that Johnny almost got killed piloting that suit. 

His Excellency had initially planned on testing the suit himself, anxious to sit inside the impressive weapon. Johnny had claimed, "Finders Keepers" with a roguish smile that quickly turned into an angry scowl as Treize insisted otherwise. An argument ensued, as it usually did in such situations. Johnny was the better pilot, they both knew that, but Treize felt more of a connection to the red dragon. A few smashed brandy snifters later and Johnny finally made his older brother see the merits of allowing someone else to test the mobile suit. The young duke was well on his way to becoming the leader of OZ, at least within the next few years, needlessly risking himself as a test pilot was foolish. Johnny, on the other hand, was expendable. 

Treize loved his brother, but the basic fact remained that Johnny might be called upon to make the same sacrifice any OZ officer should be prepared to make. Forfeiting his life in service to the cause. It was no more or less than His Excellency expected of himself or anyone under his command. Even Zechs was being prepared for such a fate. As fond of the boy as the young duke had become, he saw Zechs as a weapon first and friend second. It was necessary. The boy understood that, welcomed it. He was more willing to give his life up than anyone. Treize couldn't stand by and watch the boy become confused by past friendships. It was a mistake, the duke now realized, to ever have reintroduced the boy to his childhood confidante. Now, he must correct the mistake. 

As if on cue, the light sound of piano music drifted down the hall, reminding Treize that he had requested Cadet Marquise pay a brief visit. Treize refilled his now drained goblet and proceeded to follow the haunting refrain to its source. His Excellency stood in the doorway for a few moments, enjoying the lovely melody. Zechs' lessons had certainly paid off. The boy's fluid, emotional style more than made up for any lack of technical proficiency.  The performance ended and Zechs sat staring at his hands as they rested on the keys. He began rubbing his fingertips together as though trying to brush off some small trace of dirt.

"Good to see you, Zechs. How are your studies at Lake Victoria progressing?"

"Very well, Excellency, thank you."

"Thank you for coming."

"Is there a problem, Treize?"

"I wouldn't say problem exactly. I thought we should talk."

"About?"

"The future. Our future." Treize sat down in an ornate armchair by the large bay window and waved his young protégé over. "We are men of purpose, Zechs. Our destiny is to govern. It can be a hard fate…and a lonely one, but the world cries for us to _lead_. It is our birthright and duty. One cannot work for the greater good if personal concerns taint one's vision." 

"Is there something in particular that I should be wary of, sir?"

"Yes. Stumbling blocks. The path of a true warrior is often made rough by concerns of the heart. Attaching oneself to those in need of a warrior's protection weakens the warrior. In order to protect the weak, we must avoid becoming like them. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Zechs?"

Zechs paused and looked at his reddened, chapped hands. "Yes, Excellency. I understand perfectly."

Treize stood and walked to a towering bookshelf. He glanced down a row of books, fingers lightly skimming over the ancient volumes until he reached the object of the search. He pulled the hardback from its resting place and returned to his seat, handing the book to Zechs as he passed. The cadet opened the finely tooled cover and read the title leaf. It was an early edition of Machiavelli's The Prince. The boy thumbed the pages and looked up at his benefactor.

"I think you should read that. It supports much of what we have discussed here today." His Excellency took a parting sip of his wine and stood to escort his companion to the door. "Read it and think about what I've said very carefully, Zechs. It is imperative that you fully understand your responsibilities."

"Yes, Your Excellency." Cadet Marquise saluted and left. 

            A few hours later, Zechs was back at Lake Victoria Academy, pondering the significance of Treize's words. It was exactly what Zechs believed wasn't it? That he shouldn't have friends. That the only way to exact revenge was to become the very thing he hated. To the boy's chagrin, his heart refused to be silent on the subject. He already had 'attachments' to the weak. Zechs did not know where she was or how she fared, but Relena was imbedded in his heart more deeply than ever. He had friends. Not many, granted. Treize, Johnny…and Noin, though he railed against that fact daily. He had friends and it made him want to fight all the harder to protect them. The older he got, the harder the question was to deal with. He needed to talk to someone who understood. 

            Zechs turned and started for the mechanics bays. Johnny was probably still tinkering with that broken machine of his. As expected, Zechs found his friend sitting at the end of the hanger among a pile of strewn tools, wearing a pair of dirty coveralls. Not so expected was the sight of Lucretzia Noin standing next to the instructor, smiling, hands on hips, a smudge of grease on her chin. As he approached, Zechs could hear the last bit of their conversation.

            "Finished!"

            "Thanks for the help, Noin."

            "I had fun. No charge."

            They both laughed at the girl's joke a moment before noticing Zechs. Johnny grinned. Noin grew grim.

            "Hey Zechs, buddy! Just in time to see me test out my newly restored Harley."

            Zechs shoved his hands in his pocket. "Looks great."

            "Yeah, couldn't have done it without Noin, here."

            Zechs and Noin looked down and away from each other. Johnny shook his head. Teenagers. Had he been that bad at that age? No. He was already dating seniors. He had grown quite attached to both kids and hated to see them in such discomfort. It definitely wasn't funny anymore. 

            "All righty. I'm going to take this baby out for a spin. You two stay here and keep an eye out for me, 'kay?"

            The two cadets just looked from Johnny to each other and back. "OhhhKaaay?" Johnny insisted.

            "Yes, sir."

            Johnny shook his head and hopped on his precious bike. He took off, tires squealing in protest at the sudden burst of speed. Though he had graduated from the sling to an support bandage, the young man's shoulder still burned uncomfortably. He didn't care. That ride across the field was well worth a sore shoulder. He made the round, circling the hanger several times and waving at the now smiling cadets waiting for him. He popped a wheelie, earning a cheer from both cadets and brought the bike in. 

            "You guys want to try her out?"

"I'll go!" Zechs piped up quickly

"Wait a minute. Why should you get to ride it next?" Noin replied indignantly.

"Because I've driven motorcycles before. I ride them all the time. I have more experience."

"I've ridden plenty of bikes."

"When?"

"They had one at the convent in Rome," Noin paused and looked away from the boy. "Besides, _I_ helped fix it, _I_ should get to try it out next."

Johnny looked from Noin to Zechs, fascinated by the little drama unfolding before him. It was as though they had bickered all of their lives. "Sorry Zechs-boy, but Noin's right. She helped me rebuild the thing, she should drive first." Noin grinned, Zechs scowled. "You can be the passenger." The lieutenant tossed the key to a startled Noin, who glanced nervously at the displeased boy next to her. "There's plenty of room for both of you. Now get going before I change my mind." 

The cadets hesitated, carefully avoiding eye contact. Noin finally walked to the bike and straddled the machine, timidly waving Zechs over, "We better go." The boy walked stiffly to the bike and climbed on behind his classmate.

"Better hold on, Zechs. Noin's a speed demon." Johnny grinned at the blush that rose to the girl's cheek and the glare he received from the boy. Zechs lightly gripped Noin's waist, careful not to hold her too close. The engine sprang to life, roaring in expectation. 

"Ready?" Noin called back over her shoulder. Her passenger nodded and the girl gunned the engine. The sudden jolt took the boy off guard and he flung his arms around Noin's waist, holding on for dear life as they sped down the tarmac. Zechs felt a burst of adrenaline as they zipped away from the school's main complex. Faster and faster. Further away. Racing the wind. Noin giggled and Zechs found himself smiling. For a moment Zechs allowed himself to forget why he couldn't be part of this girl's life and just gave himself over to the rush of speed. The wind blew Noin's hair back into his face and he caught a whiff of a familiar smell. Lilacs. 

They sped along the edge of the clearing until a small road became visible. Without hesitation, Noin aimed the bike for the road, taking them out of view. The road was a bit bumpy and the two found themselves airborne more than once. Even Zechs was laughing. Impulsively, he leaned forward and shouted above the roaring wind.

"Know how to do a wheelie?"

"Nope."

"Scoot up."

Noin obliged and Zechs extended his longer legs behind hers, replacing her feet with his in one perfectly timed motion. He let go of the girl's waist and reached forward to cover Noin's hands on the grips. 

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Zechs accelerated the bike and pulled the front wheel off the ground. It was only a few seconds, but exciting enough to elicit a squeal from Noin. 

"Cool! I'm gonna try it!"

Zechs relinquished control of the bike again and held on tight as Noin managed  to raise the front wheel for a few seconds. They discovered they were arriving at the edge of a nearby town and decided to turn back before Johnny sent out search parties. The pair arrived back at the hanger, out of breath and windblown. 

"That was fun," Noin giggled as she smoothed her hair down. "Now, it's your turn to drive. Let's go." She looked up at Zechs, smiling in delight and happy to share an adventure with him once again. Zechs ran his fingers through unruly bangs and looked down at Noin. In an instant, he changed from a happy, laughing boy to a stone faced Specials cadet. Noin's face fell, as did her heart.

"I'd rather ride alone."

"Oh. All right…" Noin looked down at her clothes and busied herself with imaginary wrinkles in her uniform. "Well, I have to go anyway…I have to…study." She looked up at Johnny and smiled weakly. "Thanks for letting me try the bike out."

"Anytime," the instructor replied gently, "Thanks for helping me get it into shape." 

Cadet Noin walked away quickly. The moment she was out of earshot, Johnny whirled on Zechs and smacked the back of the boy's head.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Zechs rubbed his head in aggravation.

"Why are you such a stubborn jerk?" 

Zechs stiffened. "I don't know what you mean". 

"She was really trying, you twit. One quick ride around the compound and back. Would that have hurt so much?"

"I wanted to go fast and I didn't want to worry about getting a passenger hurt…"

"Wha…get a passenger…are you _NUTS_?!" Johnny threw up his hands in disbelief.

"…and the bike will go faster with less weight…"

"If I had a girl who looked like _that_ interested in _me_, I'd…"

Zechs whirled on his friend and superior officer, glaring. "You would _what_?" the boy demanded coldly, expression taut. Johnny observed the cadet's reaction with interest. For someone who claimed to dislike Lucretzia Noin, Zechs sure was protective. Smirking, Johnny decided to push a few buttons and see what happened.

"Oh, I don't know. Pretty girl, fast bike, small village nearby chock full of dark secluded pubs…."

"She's far too young for you," Zechs crossed his arms to hide his fists. "Besides, I'm certain you're not at all her type."

"And what's her type?"

"Someone a little more worthy of her attention, not some lush with bloodshot eyes."

Well, jealousy finally reared its green little head. He was right. Zechs liked Noin. Johnny did his best to hide his mirth. "And you'd know all of this how…?"

The boy's expression hardened and  he began to walk away. Johnny caught his arm, trying to hold the boy back but Zechs wrenched free. 

"Come to, cadet!" Johnny said sternly. Zechs complied grudgingly. "OZ may own your butt…and even your soul…but it does NOT own your heart, Zechs Merquise. You have a right to make friends. You think I could do what I do if you and Treize weren't part of my life? Nobody can make it on their own, kid, so stop being a freakin' idiot and admit you like the girl." The lieutenant finished his speech by once again swatting the back of the younger boy's head. 

"But Treize said…"

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," Johnny looked around in mock wariness. "I know this is tantamount to treason around here but," he leaned forward and continued in a whisper, "Treize doesn't know _everything_."

Zechs looked from Johnny to the rapidly retreating form of Lucretzia Noin. The normally stoic, mature Specials cadet suddenly stomped his foot in a very childish manner and ran after Noin. He didn't shout for her, he wouldn't embarrass himself. Zechs wasn't even certain why he was chasing after the girl. He was still arguing with himself, trying to convince his feet to still and silence flurry in his head. Why the hell was he going after her _now_? It almost worked, he almost pushed Noin away completely. Every step brought him closer and closer to the very object that blocked the path of a true warrior. If he could just stop himself, that obstacle would be out of his way forever. 

_OZ does not own your heart…_

Johnny's words replayed in his mind over and over, growing louder, drowning out every reasonable objection his logical mind could produce. Suddenly, Noin's name tore through the boy's throat in a hoarse shout. The girl stopped abruptly and turned with a start. She halted so abruptly, Zechs almost plowed right in to her. Skidding to a stop just in time, the cadet stood looking down at the girl in front of him. Noin's gaze was questioning, a hint of redness riming her violet eyes. Zechs opened his mouth as though to speak and shut it again. He realized he didn't know what to say. Did he chase her to apologize? To ask her to come back? To explain why they couldn't be friends and convince her to accept his decision? Damn, what was he supposed to say?

"I was going for a walk in the woods…would you care to join me, cadet?" A walk? In the woods? Zechs marveled at his own stupidity. _Care to join me, cadet_? That's _it_? Damn, damn, damn. The boy watched Noin's expression evolve from surprise to uncertainty. The slight frown at her brow indicated she was trying to decide what to say. Good. She was at a loss, too. At length, the girl smiled softly and spoke.

"Afraid of getting lost again?"

Zechs smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't the same easy open smile he bestowed so willingly once upon a time, but rather a subtle softening of expression, relaxed eyes and a slight curve of lips. "Well, my sense of direction has improved considerably, but there's always the danger of trolls about."

"I see…so you need protection?" Noin teased as they turned and began walking towards the edge of the forest.

"Backup."

"Ah." 

They walked in silence for a time, each attempting to find something intelligent to say to keep the conversation going. There was a time when filling a silence was not needed, but they were beyond that at the moment, awkwardly trying to reconnect in some small way. They had both changed a great deal in the last two years, physically and emotionally. One embraced by a loving past, one thrust into a cold future, both mourning what could never be. 

Their trek through the woods led them to the ruins of an old settler cottage dating to pre-colony development near the huge lake. It was made of stone, small but looked to have been quite charming in its day. It reminded both children of another cottage far away. Not in appearance. The designs were quite different, but the character of the house seemed to give it life. Walking through the dusty front room, filled with overgrowth and the debris of a generation of neglect, each found themselves caught up in similar memories. The oversized fireplace still contained the iron hook hinged to the side to accommodate a large cooking pot. Noin ran a finger along the cracked tiles and wondered how many happy children were fed at that hearth. The ghosts of generations of content family members passed through the dilapidated structure as the breeze picked up strewn leaves in small twisters. 

Zechs crossed over to join Noin at the fireplace and knelt. He leaned in and looked up the chimney. 

"I bet someone could still light a fire in this. There doesn't seem to be any damage to the chimney itself."

"Yeah," Noin agreed, glad to start another conversation, "and this is still pretty sturdy." She pulled on the hook as she spoke to test its strength. "Someone could hang a cooking pot on it."

"Yeah." Zechs sat on the other edge of the hearth and leaned back, trying to find something else to say. Something that would take his mind of the nagging feeling that it was wrong, he shouldn't be there. He should leave her alone. The wind picked up, passing through the house in a soft whisper, whistling through the trees, hinting at a melody. It began to grow dark. Zechs felt himself running, shouting, though he heard nothing. Pain. Red. Mud. Red. Water. Red. Everything was red…

His eyes snapped open as the dream ended abruptly. It took a moment for the disorientation to pass and for Zechs to realize he had fallen asleep and dreamed. He remained still, trying to recall where he was. A slight pressure on his chest caught his attention and he looked down at a small hand, resting over the spot where his mama's locket lay beneath his shirt. He looked from the hand to Noin, who sat staring out one of the broken windows, lost in thought. He must have called out or something that attracted her attention. She knew he was having a nightmare and did what she always had…let him know he wasn't alone. Zechs lay still for a moment, wavering between accepting her comfort or burying his fears. Ultimately he chose the latter and sat up.

The boy's movement alerted Noin and she turned to him. "Are you all right, Zechs?"

"Yes." The response was curt, more than the boy intended, but the last thing he needed was to rehash a nightmare. He brushed the dirt from his clothes, wiped the sleep from his eyes and carefully avoided meeting Noin's gaze. He could feel her looking at him and did not feel up to the challenge of keeping his expression cold while looking into her huge, compassionate eyes. That would be the last straw. He would break down into pathetic sobs, he was sure.

"Zechs…what did they do to you?"

The question caught the boy off guard and he looked up. Noin's face was marred by worry, fear, and a host of other emotions he couldn't decipher. His first instinct was to tell her what happened, but he had lived away from her too long to immediately confide anything. Even if he could tell her, Zechs couldn't bear the consequences. Noin sat there in loving concern, ready to help in any way she could, but what would happen if she found out what he did? It occurred to him that the revelation might accomplish what the past few weeks of cold snubbing had not. She might turn from him and never look back. Noin would be free of his wickedness and Zechs would be free of her friendship. 

            "They locked me up for a while…" Zechs kept his voice flat, emotionless. He might as well have been reciting mechanical data to an instructor. "Karl and that other cadet roughed me up a bit…" The boy looked straight ahead as the story unfolded, fearful of looking into Noin's eyes as the horror of what he had become finally became clear. "He kept bragging about killing you…"

"You thought I was dead?"

 "And we got in a fight…"

"Oh, Zechs."

"Karl had a knife, he was going to stab me and I…"

"Zechs," Noin's choked whisper barely reached him.

"I killed him." 

They sat in suffocating silence for what seemed like hours, but proved to be only a few moments. Zechs swallowed a lump rising in his throat at the memory of Karl's shocked face, quickly being drained of life. That was it. He did it. She hated him now. It was a miracle she didn't run away screaming for help. He could not bring himself to see that hate and disgust on her face, so the boy stared straight ahead. 

            "So now you understand why we can't be friends anymore."

            Noin closed her eyes briefly against the swell of tears. Zechs truly did hate her now. He had been abused and forced to kill because of her. Noin knew she deserved the boy's contempt, but found it was too much. She could learn to live without his friendship, even without his respect, but she could not live with his hatred. It was too much to ask, she knew, but Noin couldn't help herself. She had to ask for his forgiveness. 

"I'm sorry for everything, Zechs…please don't hate me."

            "What?" Taken aback, Zechs finally dared to look at the girl. Noin's head was bowed slightly, long bangs falling forward to shield her face. It was an old habit of hers, hiding behind her hair. Hate her? What was she talking about? He could never hate her. It had not occurred to him to try. There was enough hate in his heart for those who deserved it, he couldn't extend it to include someone as blameless as Noin.

            "I know it was my fault that you got caught, but if you can forgive me…"

            "Forgive _you_?" After a moment of confusion, Zechs understood. Noin felt guilty. He made her think she was responsible. 

            "I know it's a lot to ask, but…"

"Damn it Noin! I just told you I killed Karl! Don't you get it? I am a _killer!_"

Noin looked up, finally meeting the boy's gaze, and realized what Zechs was saying. She saw it all in his eyes. The shame, anger, loathing. Hate, not for her, but himself. She could accept blame but she wouldn't allow him to heap it on his own head. Her sad expression faded into a righteous frown as she considered what it must have been like for him after Karl's death. When Zechs spoke again Noin was disheartened by the desperate, almost pleading tone. 

"How can you stand to be here with me? With a _murderer_?!"

 "It wasn't your fault, Zechs! He was going to kill _you_!"

            "My father was in the same position…he died rather than take a life." Zechs held his head in his hands, eyes closed. "Father would be so ashamed of me."

            Noin timidly squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I don't know what your father would do, but I know your mother would be glad you are alive."

            "Just leave it alone, Noin," Zechs growled angrily as he jerked away from the girl's comforting touch. "Leave me alone…you can't help me."

            "What do you expect me to do? Turn my back and run? I've been looking for you for _two years_, do you honestly think I'll just walk away now that you're back?" Noin huffed and folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. "Not going to happen, pal. Family sticks together."

            "But we're not family, are we?" responded wearily, nearly whispering. "That was just a game of pretend…an elaborate fairytale we cooked up…"

            "I meant it. Ingrid was my Nana and you were my brother…"

"I can't be your brother anymore, Noin. I can't be anyone's brother…" The boy's voice trailed off into a whisper as his thoughts turned to another little girl, far away. 

"You're right," Noin's response was quiet, dignified but firm, "maybe we can't be a family anymore, but we are still friends, Zechs. We will always be friends, no matter what. Remember? Pinkie Swears are forever."

Zechs scowled and looked over to the girl, expecting to see an amused smile. Instead, Noin's expression was grim and determined. Obstinate. Zechs recognized that willful expression. No way he was going to be able to talk her out of this and Zechs wasn't certain now that he wanted to try. He had missed having a friend more than he cared to admit. He looked up to both Treize and Johnny, but there were things he would never confide to them. Things that had nothing to do with revenge, justice, or duty. Things he could share with Noin. Fairies, dragons, secrets and songs. Wishes, promises, chocolate cake. Those he could only share with his best friend.

Zechs allowed his implacable expression to soften, the hint of a smile on his lips, and held out a pinkie finger. Noin smiled in return as she hooked her little finger with his. It would never be like it once was, but their friendship had managed to survive somehow. Through all the turmoil of world wars and the inner tumult of uncertainty and guilt, they were still friends. They were the Lilac Princess and the Cloud Prince, continuing their quest through the darkness and searching for a new day. Together.

++++++++++++ End Chapter 4. Did you make it this far? Forgive me now? ++++++++++++++

            I know. Obnoxiously long chapter, but hopefully it was worth the month-long wait. That last bit gagged me a bit. That was too precious, even for me, but I couldn't think of anything better and at least they're friends again. I actually had a different version where Zechs runs off again, but my cousin started throwing popcorn balls at me and demanding a happier conclusion. Ever tried to get Karo syrup out of your hair? Not fun. Anyway, my angsty mood lifted and I decided on a reconciliation. I think I've brought them both up to their GW series personalities, but I'd appreciate feedback on that. Same goes for Treize and Une (particularly Treize, he turned out to be more difficult than I thought). I'm trying very hard to keep them true to their characters while making up whole new histories for them. That's not easy, so I need to know how I'm doing. 

The scene where Treize finds the note from Johnny was given to me by Johnny Rage (Thanks man!) & he was the inspiration for that character…he's so funny…Sorry this one took longer, but I was depressed about something and developed an evil case of writer's block. Naturally, this made me more depressed which intensified my writer's block. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it? I'm still having loads of trouble in the inspiration department. My brother calls it creative constipation. You can always count on a brother to be gross just when you need it most. 

_Disclaimer_: O.K. Every lawyer reading this has a new assignment to be completed by the next chapter: take out your legal pads and write one thousand times, "Lady Dante does not own Gundam Wing, even though she deserves to, and we will not bother her." Any lawyer who fails to complete this assignment before the next chapter will be forced to deal with Mr. Boo-bear.


	5. War Games

Still Grows the Lilac 

The Lilac Princess Book II

By Lady Dante

Chapter 5

War Games 

It was a week before the Lake Victoria Academy's annual war games and the campus was more active that ever before. Although restricted to second year cadets, the exercise was one of the most anticipated events of the year, engrossing everyone from the lowliest first year cadet to His Excellency. To add to the excitement, the top two cadets currently attending the Academy were each to lead a faction.  Cadet Lucretzia Noin was to command Blue Unit while Red Unit was placed in the hands of Cadet Zechs Marquise. Armaments were limited to rifles that fired paint pellets, but the mock battle was expected to be enthralling  nonetheless.  

Over the past three weeks, the two stoic cadets had been seen in each other's company a great deal. It was something of a surprise to their classmates, as neither student had ever shown any inclination to make friends and their rivalry for top cadet standing was notorious. It was not an uncommon sight now to see the two walking together or sharing a meal. Currently, the 14-year-old juniors were supervising their first years in combat exercises. The Academy classes were divided into military divisions, first year cadets were placed under the supervision of second year students, with senior year commanders in authority overall. The top ranking cadets in each class were naturally given command of their respective platoons, units, and divisions and expected to take responsibility for those in their charge. 

Cadet Marquise often pit his young troops against Cadet Noin's group during training exercises, taking particular pride in any victory won against such an able opponent. Noin, for her part, enjoyed the challenge of finding new strategies and techniques to use against her more tradition-oriented adversaries. The two were making quite a name for themselves in the Academy history books, breaking every standing record, including those set by His Excellency several years before. Zechs Marquise and Lucretzia Noin were by far the best cadets ever to attend Lake Victoria Academy, yet possessed none of the conceit one might expect. They were equally well-known for their single-minded focus on improving themselves, never accepting that the latest accomplishment was good enough but rather always looking for the next goal to pass.  

            "I don't see why they couldn't at least allow _you_ _and_ _I_ to use mobile suits. Our scores are better than the seniors." 

            "I think using mobile suits defeats the point of the exercise, Zechs. We're supposed to experience battle at its worst. Up close and personal."

            The cadets were leaning against wall watching their students practicing defensive moves and discussing the upcoming event. Noin flipped a page in the small book she was reading as Zechs scuffed his feet in irritation. He was anxious to have a try at mobile suit combat and found it quite annoying that such activity was strictly reserved for seniors. He and Noin were tied for first in the simulation chamber, but the true test was to sit in a mobile suit, controls in hand and fight. He had operated several mobile suits in basic exercises, but had yet to try his hand at weapons operations. Zechs found it frustrating that someone with his advanced experience had to wait. 

"His Excellency is testing us. He wants to determine if we have the courage to face our enemies face to face."

            "Pretty much."

            "So," Zechs paused to look over at his companion wit a touch of uncharacteristic trepidation. "how bad is it?"

            Noin stopped reading, but didn't look up. "I was in the command center. I didn't really participate in the actual battle."

            "But?"

            "But it was still pretty nerve wracking."

            "Were you frightened?"

            A charming but self-deprecating smile spread across the girl's face. "Scared to death…but I did my job. Besides, you're supposed to be afraid in battle. If you're not, there's something seriously wrong with you."

            Zechs chuckled softly and lowered his voice in imitation of Treize Kushrenada. " 'If you weren't afraid it wouldn't take courage.' "

            Noin grinned up at him. "Got the speech, too, huh?"

            "Oh, I get _every_ speech and then some."

            "Well, that's what you get for being the new darling of Romefellar."

            Zechs grunted in displeasure and rolled his eyes. "Noin, please."

            "What is it they call you now? Lightening Boy?"

"Count. Lightening _Count_."

"Ah…" Noin paused to bark an order to one of her team members, then continued. "I wonder what they call me."

"Everyone calls you _Miss_ Noin…no one is brave enough to call you anything else." 

Zechs smirked ever so slightly at the remark. Two weeks before, Noin had so thoroughly defeated a fellow cadet in hand-to-hand combat exercises, that everyone in school was abuzz. It would not have been such an event if not for the fact that the other cadet was a senior, a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier. Noin, never one to crave such attention, endured it as best she could until one afternoon she overheard a male student named Carter refer to her as an Amazon princess and added a few offensive comments speculating on how Noin would look in leather. The last remark infuriated Zechs to the point he almost dealt with the cadet himself, but found it was not necessary. Having withstood all she possibly could, Noin's now infamous temper got the better of her and she proceeded to "discuss" the matter with Carter. "Discussing" being the Academy euphemism for "beat the crap out of." Zechs had witnessed the scuffle at a distance, but close enough to lend a hand should it prove necessary. 

He knew Noin could handle herself and allowed her to take care of her own problems, but he had not quite shaken the need to make certain she was all right--especially with regards to male students and their ungentlemanly behavior towards the budding beauty. As he expected, Noin was the victor in the altercation, only a few bruised knuckles as evidence that she had been a fight at all. True, she had received several demerits for conduct unbecoming, but she accepted the punishment with head held high and few students ever dared make such a mistake again. The few that did found themselves on the receiving end of an icy, soul-withering glare from the tall, quiet cadet that always seemed to accompany Miss Noin these days.

            As the conversation stalled, Noin took up her book and once again began reading from the small volume. Zechs watched her out of the corner of his eye for a few moments. Paolo sent the book to Noin for their fourteenth birthday two weeks ago. The only mail Noin ever received were monthly letters from their old schoolmate in Livorno. Noin was obviously pleased with the regular correspondence, so Zechs tried not to let it annoy him…much. He certainly didn't begrudge her the opportunity to cling to their rapidly evaporating youth. Zechs did so himself. The old stone house they found on the day he and Noin had renewed their friendship was now their home away from campus. A place where they could act their age without fear of reprisal. They cleaned the old homestead up a bit, made a few repairs and actually acquired some meager furnishings, drawing on their long-dormant bartering skills to supply them with various items of comfort. The little house was now quite a hideaway. A birthday present to each other. 

            "What's so fascinating about that silly book anyway?" Zechs asked, trying valiantly not to sound irked over the fact that Noin was so absorbed with Paolo's gift.

            Noin either did not notice or chose to ignore 'silly' and responded, "It's called The Art of War by Sun Tzu and it's quite good actually. It's going to help me win the war games," she added with a grin. "There are some very good lessons in here." Flipping back through the book to a specific quote, the girl read aloud. " 'What is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy's strategy. Next best is to disrupt his alliances by diplomacy.' Pretty good, huh?"

            Zechs frowned. "What is of supreme importance in war is to defeat your enemy by any means necessary."

            "At the cost of your own troops?"

            "If necessary, yes."

            "You don't really believe that," Noin scoffed as she thumbed to another page. " 'All warfare is based on deception. Therefore, when capable of attacking, feign incapacity; when active in moving troops, feign inactivity. When near the enemy, make it seem that you are far away; when far away, make it seem that you are near. Hold out baits to lure the enemy.' "

            "Well, that doesn't sound very honorable."

            "But getting all of your soldiers killed does?"

            "Yes. If they die in a just cause…yes. It's moot anyway. My cadets are too well trained to get themselves killed accidentally."

Noin snorted and shook her head.

Zechs glanced over at the book and realized it was a copy of the original text, not a translation. "When did you learn to read Chinese?"

"About a year ago. Wait. Here's one I like, 'Strike the enemy when he is in disorder. Prepare against the enemy when he is secure at all points. Avoid the enemy for the time being when he is stronger. If your opponent is of choleric temper, try to irritate him'…oh, this one is for you," Noin smirked and nudged the tall boy in the ribs, 'If he is arrogant, try to encourage his egotism.' " 

"I'm not arrogant. I'm confident."

"Uh-huh, right."

            Zechs was about to respond when he noted one of the youngest cadets botch a defensive move and fall on his rear. Walker was the smallest one in the group and perpetually in need of assistance. Zechs didn't mind helping the boy, but it brought up the question of how such an awkward child came to be recruited by the Specials in the first place. Cadet Marquise called out instructions to the boy in a low, even tone so as not to cause undue embarrassment. 

            "Remember to brace yourself with your left foot, Walker…yes, like that…good. Continue." Zechs lowered his voice and added a comment for Noin's ears only. "That boy is going to get creamed."

"He's not that bad. I think he just needs a little extra attention."

"Perhaps you're right."

Noin pocketed her book and glanced at her watch. "I guess we should let them off the hook for today. Meet you at the homestead later?"

"Sure."

"You're going to bring it, right?"

"As ordered, Miss Noin."

Noin called her group to attention and dismissed them. Zechs followed suit and called Walker back. The young cadet saluted nervously. 

"Yes, sir?"

Zechs tried to soften his expression, aware of the fact that he seemed very intimidating to the younger cadets. "At ease, Cadet Walker. I just wanted to ask if you have some free time? We could work on your defensive techniques."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir…I'm sorry I'm so slow, sir. I'm sure with practice…"

Zechs put a hand on the boy's shoulder to quell the cadet's nervous chatter. "It's fine, Walker…and you don't have to call me sir after every sentence."

"Yes, sir." 

Zechs smiled at that and proceeded with the lesson. They worked together for an hour, Zechs patiently drilling the younger boy on the basic moves until Walker was comfortable with his ability to perform each adequately. He was an eager pupil, if not instantly proficient. Zechs admired the twelve-year-old's tenacity and began to recognize potential in the cadet. If all of his first years were as eager as this cadet, Zechs' team would be first in all events. It would take hard work and extra help, but Zechs was certain Walker would prove to be a good soldier eventually. The older boy ended the lesson with a friendly pat on the back.

"Good job, cadet." 

The two agreed upon a time for their next practice session. A grateful Walker saluted his superior with sincere thanks. Having made quite a bit of progress under Cadet Marquise's guidance, Walker mustered up enough courage to ask for another favor.

"Excuse me, sir? I mean, Cadet Marquise?" Zechs paused and turned back to the younger boy. "I was wondering…I'm having some trouble in another subject," Walker pulled a textbook from the stack at his feet, "I was wondering if you could explain…"

"No," Zechs interrupted, knowing his teaching skills did not extend beyond battle tactics, "but I know someone who can." He waved Walker over and they started across the quad. They paused briefly at the cafeteria door where Cadet Marquise picked up a small paper bag from one of the kitchen staff. He subtly passed a small wad of money to the cook and pocketed the small bag. As curious as he was, Walker did not venture to ask as they started off down a wooded path leading away from the base. 

It was only a ten minute walk from the campus, but it seemed interminable to Eliot Walker. He was a clumsy, shy boy and the smallest in his class…even smaller than the girls. He wanted so much to be in the Specials, to serve His Excellency, but his awkwardness and timidity seemed always to hold him back. He knew, deep down, that he could be a good officer if he could just get past his self-consciousness. It seemed to Walker that everyone was always one step ahead or one second faster. It didn't help his self-esteem any when he was assigned to Cadet Marquise. The older boy was the top cadet in the school, always at ease, graceful, smart…everything Walker endeavored to be. His inadequacies seemed amplified by the towering figure of Zechs Marquise. As the youngest son of a minor duke, Eliot was often overlooked. He was not destined to inherit his father's title or his mother's lands, so nothing much was expected of him. He desperately wanted to change that, to be _somebody_.

Even now, as they walked along in silence, Walker was painfully aware of his shortcomings. Cadet Marquise's stride was easy and unconcerned, while Cadet Walker stumbled along with an armload of precariously balanced textbooks, trying desperately not to trip. To his great relief, they arrived at their destination without incident. He stopped outside a dilapidated house, looking on curiously. Who on Earth could Cadet Marquise possibly be meeting here? The taller boy ducked through the doorway and Walker hesitantly followed. After a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the low light, the young cadet looked about. It was actually rather tidy, he noticed, not at all what he might have expected based on the house's outward appearance. The floor was immaculate and there were several pieces of worn, but presentable, pieces of furniture set about the small room. The windows on the opposite wall were covered with curtains. Frilly curtains, to be exact. Made of pink gingham. Walker raised an eyebrow and glanced over at his cadet commander. 

"Hello. I see you've brought a guest." 

The sound of a female voice startled the boy enough that he almost dropped his books. Kneeling by the spacious hearth was Cadet Noin. Well, that explained the curtains.

"Walker was having some trouble with class work. I was hoping you might help him."

"Of course. After we eat, I'll be happy to help." Miss Noin smiled prettily at Walker, who blushed and started to salute. The books he carried began to topple, but were deftly caught by his companion. Cadet Marquise stacked the books neatly on a small table and led Walker to the fireplace. 

"Did you bring it?" Miss Noin grinned at her friend as she stirred a large pot hanging over the fire.

"Yes…you owe me, though. It took all the money I won from Johnny in our last game of billiards." Zechs replied as he pulled a small paper bag from his pocket and tossed it to the girl.

"Hey, I'm cooking. Next time _I_ buy and _you_ cook, then we'll be even." She opened the bag and pulled out a small jar filled with green leaves. She opened it and sniffed. "Ah…fresh oregano…perfect." She shook some into the soup. "This should be ready in a little while. Have a seat, boys." 

            Walker sat nervously on the edge of a straight-backed chair while his student commander eased into a comfortable-looking arm chair nearby. The younger boy watched as the other two chatted amiably about the day's events and other trivialities. It was a bit of a surprise for Walker, watching the two best cadets at the Academy chatting over a soup pot. It was especially surprising to see the normally stern teenagers behaving with such, well, domesticity. It was not something he expected to see of anyone in the Specials. Their lives were about discipline, honor, duty. True, His Excellency did everything to encourage the pursuit of leisure activities, particularly for prospective officers, but attending balls and receptions was far different from creating this cozy little home in the forest. 

            Walker watched the two talk for a time, not really paying attention to the conversation, merely enjoying the novelty of a family-like atmosphere. Watching Miss Noin cook and seeing Cadet Marquise sprawled comfortably in a chair reminded him of all the evenings he used to spend in the kitchen of his father's mansion. Walker was never comfortable attending his parent's elaborate social gathering, preferring to spend the evening with the servants. In many ways, their old butler and housekeeper were more parents to the young boy than his own. Walker suddenly yawned and quickly clamped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. He was relieved to note that neither of the older cadets seemed to notice. He tried to straighten himself up and pay attention, but after a few more moments of dreamy reminiscence, Walker nodded off. He awoke about twenty minutes later to find himself lying on the threadbare sofa. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off his lingering sleep. 

            "Feel better?" Miss Noin's soft voice drifted over from another chair by the fire. 

            "I, uh…sorry, I didn't…"

            "Don't apologize, Walker." Zechs shifted in his chair to look over at the boy. "You worked hard today. That takes a lot out of a body. Come have something to eat." 

            Zechs handed the boy a bowl of steaming soup as he spoke. Walker  began gulping the hearty fare down, barely pausing to chew. He hadn't realized how very hungry he was until he caught a whiff of the marvelous stuff. He drained the offering quickly and sat looking at the empty bowl, still too shy around his heroes to ask for more. Miss Noin smiled and filled the bowl, playfully commenting on what a compliment Walker paid her cooking. The boy's full stomach bolstered his confidence and he finally joined the conversation. As strange as it seemed to share a meal with such respected students, he found himself feeling at ease. 

            After dinner, Miss Noin fulfilled her promise to help Walker with his studies. She patiently explained the troublesome passages and answered every question with ease. Under her gentle tutelage, Walker began to finally understand what two professors and three tutors had not been able to explain. Later that evening, as the three walked back to campus, Walker realized he wasn't nervous anymore. He felt himself grinning like the child he was, but didn't care. For the first time since his arrival at Lake Victoria Academy, Eliot Walker felt as though he might make it through. He finally felt as though he had accomplished something, _become_ something. 

Walker was proud of himself. 

==========================

            "DAMN!" 

            Johnny screamed at nothing in particular as he struggled with the crimson mobile suit. Once again the suit lurched dangerously towards the target, straining against Johnny's control. It was almost as though the evil machine had a mind of its own, struggling to free itself from the pilot's grasp and take its own path. The aviator growled in frustration as he fought against the onslaught of information pouring into his brain from the operating system. He always had to fight that damned thing for control and usually lost. Not this time. 

            _I am not meant for you._

"The hell you aren't!"

            _I will not do what you want._

"Screw you!" Johnny shrieked as he wrenched the suit around. It took every ounce of his strength to do so and still maintain control. 

            _But if you do as I say, we will be victorious._

            Johnny took a deep breath and made a fateful decision. He let go. He gave in to the persistent and insistent call of the mobile suit and let the mysterious operating system take over. He listened for once, really listened to the machine, allowing the tide of information to wash over his brain and replace his conscious mind. Cold efficiency replaced passionate instinct. Johnny quickly dispatched every target within the span of a few moments. The machine showed him how to do it, what it would be like to accomplish the task as _it_ saw fit, not as planned.  It showed Johnny many things, many enemies, many obstacles. It also showed him what it would be like to destroy every one of those enemies and obstacles. Some of those obstacles were just below him now. All he had to do was turn around and make one more pass…

            "What in Heaven's name is he doing?" 

            Treize stood observing his brother's test flight. A few moments before, he had been pleased to see Johnny proficiently decimate the targets. Now, however, the top OZ pilot was making a sudden turn and bearing down on the testing grounds. It looked as though…

            "Give me a comlink!" Treize barked at the technicians nearby with more emotion that any of them had witnessed in their normally serene commander. One technician scurried up with a head set. His Excellency hastily put the contraption on and opened the mike to his brother.

            "Johnny. It's me."

            Johnny almost didn't notice the soft, calm voice emerging from the communication panel. The voice of the machine almost drowned it out. It took a moment for the voice to register.

            "Treize?"

            "Yes, Johnny, it's Treize."

            _If you do what I say, we will be victorious._

            "Johnny, what are you doing?"

            _Let me show you what we can achieve…_

            "Johnny? Are you there?"

            _Destroy that which blocks our path…_

"Brother?"

            Johnny's breath caught in his throat. His mind was reeling. He didn't know what to believe, who to listen to. He let out a plaintive cry and pressed a hand to his heart. 

            "Brother, it is time to come home. Set the suit down and come home."

            "Treize?" Johnny's voice broke as he spoke. He didn't know what was real anymore so he latched on to the only thing he recognized. His brother's voice.

            "Yes, come home."

            Treize watched the crimson machine come to a rough stop in the middle of the testing grounds. He started for the mobile suit quickly and ordered the medical team to follow. His Excellency was the first to reach the craft and grasped the lift cable. The hatch popped and hissed to life, opening slightly just as the young duke reached the top. He used his foot to push the door open all the way and knelt at the entrance. Johnny sat slumped in the pilot's seat, listless and silent. Treize grasped the young man's helmet and gently removed it, revealing a dazed, expressionless face. 

            "Johnny?"

            Clouded eyes peered up weakly.

            "Come on," Treize ordered gently as he unfastened the restraints, "I think you've earned a vacation, brother." 

            Treize pulled the younger man out of the pilot's seat an helped him down, all the while speaking softly and supporting his brother's weight. Johnny did not speak. He simply kept his eyes on his older brother, seeming to concentrate only on the sound of Treize's voice. As the two made their way to the medic van, the suit continued to hum menacingly. The technicians and engineers stepped away from the demonic device, afraid now to stand too close.  The front sensor array pulsated rhythmically, glowing almost like the eye of a Cyclops. It almost looked alive. 

==========================

            Noin clutched her head and sank to her knees. She began to feel strange during her daily exercise and decided to quit early. She was near the landing strip, at Hanger 2 waiting for Zechs when one of her headaches came upon her. It was more sudden and violent than any headache she had ever experienced. The burst of voices and suppressed imagery invading her mind took her off guard and she called out. She gritted her teeth against another scream and tried to breath through the pain and confusion, but her breathing technique wasn't working. Something was different about this episode. The images were clearer, the voices more distinct. 

            A memory pushed forward into her conscious mind, covering the cacophony of image and sound. She was running on the beach with Zechs, in Livorno. No, it wasn't Zechs. It wasn't Livorno. It wasn't right. She was too old. The man she was running with was too old. He turned to her, laughing. The sun shone too brightly behind him. She couldn't make out his face…but she could hear his voice…and her own. But it wasn't right. She sounded too old.

            _"Must you leave so soon, caro?"_

_            "Yes, my love. I shall return soon. I promise."_

Noin grunted as the scene faded to black, only the lingering voice whispering to her.

            _"Arrivederci, Lucretzia."_

_            "Arrivederci, amor mio."_

            Noin staggered to her feet and ran. There was no sense in her running, somewhere she realized that, but the unexpected clarity of her 'memory' was more than she could bear. The scene in her mind's eye changed once again. It was the past once again, but a more recognizable and terrifying piece. She remembered the other boy. The one she assumed to be her brother. Only…he wasn't dead. It was dark again, she couldn't see anything, but she could hear—no, feel—his voice in her mind. 

            _"Where are they taking us?"_

_            "I don't know"_

_            "I don't want to leave."_

_            "I'm scared."_

_            "I'm scared, too."_

_            "Don't leave me."_

_            "I'm here."_     

            Noin ran faster as tears began to stream down her face. She ran blindly, eyes closed, hands to her head. She ran into someone and knocked them both to the ground. In her confusion, she began to call out to the other boy, afraid they were being separated. She heard other voices, grown ups shouting. They wanted to make her go away. She started to scream. She felt the boy calling for her. 

_"No! Don't take her!"_

            "Nicht macht! Halten sie!"

"Stop what? Noin?" Zechs managed to get to his knees and pulled Noin to a sitting position. She was frantic. He hadn't seen her in such a state since she was six. He grasped her shoulders. "Noin! It's me, it's Zechs." 

He gave her a little shake as he spoke, but Noin stubbornly kept her eyes closed. Her hands were still clamped to the sides of her head as though keeping her head from breaking in two. He placed his own hands over hers in an irrational attempt to ease her pain. She continued to babble incoherently, switching from German to Italian without logical pause. Zechs strained to make out what she was saying, hoping to figure out what was happening. His German was terribly rusty and Noin spoke to quickly for him to make out much of what she did say in Italian. Her words tumbled out in a rush, phrases tripping over each other in their hast to escape her mouth. He ascertained only a few recognizable remarks, but these only concerned him more. None of it was making sense. 

Noin suddenly seemed to calm slightly and Zechs seized the opportunity to set her on her feet again. He collected the textbooks strewn at his feet and tucked them back into his bag. He gripped Noin's shoulders and gently guided her away from Academy grounds and towards the wooded area just beyond the air strip. He struggled with his decision to take her to the homestead instead of the infirmary, but he knew Noin would never forgive him for such an act. She needed a chance to calm down in a quiet place, far away from prying eyes. The short walk seemed much too long today as a worried Zechs led his friend to the relative privacy of the little stone house. 

Noin sat on the sofa while Zechs fetched some cool water, standing uncertainly over her as she drank. He hadn't been this concerned about anything other than revenge in a long time. He knew he should have said something to her about her episodes sooner, but he had been too caught up in his studies. She had seemed all right. Then again, she was much better at hiding her headaches than she had been when they were small children. For all Zechs knew, Noin might have been having these episodes every day. 

"Noin…"

"I'm fine." Noin attempted a tired smile as she handed the empty glass back to her friend. He frowned down at her in disbelief. "Really, I'm fine."

"All the same, I think you should take a nap."

"A nap? What am I in kindergarten?"

            "Humor me." Zechs spoke firmly, but gently, indicating he would brook no opposition on the matter. He removed his cadet uniform jacket and wadded it into a ball, offering it for a pillow. She stretched out and closed her eyes obediently. Within a few moments, she was drifting off to sleep. Zechs sat across from her in relief. He observed her for some time, concerned that a nightmare would interrupt her quiet slumber. He watched as Noin's breaths grew steady and slow, her muscles visibly relaxing as she flowed deeper into sleep. She looked peaceful now. Zechs tilted his head to look at her face. Untroubled. Nothing to indicate what had upset her only a short while ago. 

            An idea sprang to mind as Zechs gazed upon his sleeping friend. He pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil. The soft lead traced the outline of Noin's figure with expert grace, leaving the imprint of a lovely young woman in its wake. Zechs still enjoyed drawing, but found little time—and even less inspiration—to do so. The perfect pose Noin unconsciously formed was too intriguing to pass up. He became absorbed with the sketch, glancing up with an expert eye and rendering the details of his work with ease. It was about an hour later before he paused  to sharpen the dulled nub of his pencil. Noin began to stir and sat up groggily. Seeing her companion with his sketch pad, she craned her neck to see what had entranced him so.

 "Can I see?" Noin asked sleepily as she rubbed her eyes.

Zechs glanced up at her then back at his sketch, for the first time he really looking at his portrait of Noin. She was stretched out as she had been a moment ago, but in his drawing Noin was lying on a wrinkled sheet. Her shirt was rumpled, as it was even now, but he took the creative liberty of moving it off her shoulder in his sketch, revealing a tempting glimpse of the girl's collarbone and just beyond. He had taken great care with her facial features, from the fullness of her lips to the stray lock of hair falling across her closed eyes, every detail was meticulously rendered. One leg was crossed over the other, but Zechs had chosen to omit the shorts and instead continued the curve of Noin's leg up to the hem of the shirt. She was completely covered where it counted most, but still…

"No. It's not finished." He answered, abruptly flipping  the cover over the sketch and shoving it in his bag. 

Noin shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair, yawning. "How long was I out?"

"Not that long…how are you?"

The quiet concern in his voice made Noin look up. "I'm o.k., Zechs, really. I," Noin looked away again, embarrassed. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"Don't be silly." Zechs spoke with some annoyance in his voice. "Why didn't you tell me things were getting so bad?

Noin didn't answer immediately, instead she just looked at her friend. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, peering at her with those piercing blue eyes. He was worried and frustrated. After a moment, Noin found she could no longer hold his intense gaze and turned away. 

"It's never been that bad…until today." 

"What was different about today?" 

His voice was gentle now and Noin looked up. The light streaming in through the window cast a shadow in front of the young man and Noin started. Her reaction prompted Zechs to stand and walk over, kneeling in front of  her. They did not speak for several moments and Noin carefully avoided eye contact. She wasn't certain how to answer his question. She didn't really understand what was different about today. As she tried to analyze the situation, Noin dipped her head forward, allowing her dark bangs to tumble forward and provide a shield against her friend's persistent gaze. Zechs reached forward and pushed her hair back. His hand lingered on the side of her head as his eyes bore into hers. As usual, his expression betrayed nothing. Noin, however, could see the distress that her condition caused. The firm set of his jaw indicated he was clenching his teeth. He was worried. A slight frown creased his forehead. He was confused. Beyond all of that lay another layer of emotion. Something she recognized as easily as her own face in the mirror, but could never put a name to. It was something they had shared since the day Zechs found her alone in the forest. Noin stared into his eyes, taking in as much of that comforting feeling as she could.

"Who was the boy you were calling for?"

"What?" Noin jerked a bit, startled. What had she said? It was all beginning to fade again. The boy, running on the beach…she was forgetting again.

"You were talking too fast for me to catch everything, but I heard you call for a boy. I thought you meant me at first, but…" 

Noin looked down at the boy in front of her. The boy who reminded her of the sunlit sky. Cloud-white hair, blue eyes as clear as the sky after a storm, warm skin with just a hint of healthy brown glow. Zechs was sunlight and clean air. The other boy reminded her of cold darkness, pale flesh, lifeless eyes. She tilted her head slightly, leaning into her friend's hand. His palm was warm, she could imagine the flow of blood pulsating through the veins of his fingers and beginning the journey back through his arms into his heart and out again. She could detect the faded scent of soap. Everything about him was real, tangible, unlike the other boy, who only existed in twisted memories. This boy was alive. Most importantly, this boy wouldn't leave her alone. They stayed like that for a little while before Zechs hesitantly withdrew his hand and renewed his question.

"Who was he Noin? Can you remember anything?"

"I think he was my brother, but I'm not sure. He was already dead when I woke up." 

"You mean when…"

"Yeah."

"Were you remembering when he died? Is that what upset you so?"

Noin closed her eyes briefly and took a breath, trying to draw back something from the episode, something that would make sense. The problem was that none of it made sense. The images were clear, the voices audible, but none of it made sense.

"Do you think it's some kind of repressed memory trying to come out?"

Noin frowned. The thought had occurred to her on more than one occasion, but something about the memories just didn't seem right. It was as though she were looking inside someone else's mind.

"I don't know, Zechs. It's almost like watching a movie, you know? Like I'm watching someone else's life or …or like watching a tape that's been erased but some of the recording is still there…" She gave up and held her head in her hands. "Oh, I don't know. It's never made any sense." 

Another moment of silence followed. Noin massaged her temples absently and tried to clear her head. 

"Noin," Zechs began rather awkwardly, "why didn't you ever tell me about the other boy?"

"I couldn't."

"I see." His low tone told her he didn't see at all. He seemed rather hurt by it, actually. Noin sighed and tried to explain.

"It hurt too much…and I don't just mean my headaches. The only person I ever spoke to about the boy was Captain Damon." 

"I understand." Zechs smiled slightly this time and  touched Noin's arm, then stood. "You want to hang out here for a while? I could go scrounge something up for supper and be back in ten."

"Sounds great."

"I might even manage a chocolate bar or something."

"Ohhh, that would be lovely!" Noin's mouth watered at the prospect of feeding her chocolate addiction. "Forget the real food! If you can score a chocolate bar, I'll be your best friend."

Zechs looked over his shoulder as he walked to the door, smiled broadly and ducked out. 

=============================

            "You have your orders, lieutenant. Any questions?"

            "No sir!"

 The young officer saluted and exited the lush office of Treize Kushrenada. As soon as the young man left, Treize sat down and poured himself a drink. He mulled the current problem over his glass of wine and sighed. He had just ordered that the damnable red suit be shipped to his private estate in Luxembourg, as far away from Johnny as Treize could manage without revealing the suit's existence to the OZ hierarchy. It was not an easy decision to make, but Treize was determined to preserve the suit and his brother. Johnny's last encounter with the strange machine almost cost him his sanity. It was still precarious, but the younger Kushrenada brother did seem to be in better spirits now that he was no longer under the influence of the suit's operating system. Hopefully, Johnny would be back to his wise-cracking self soon.

            A knock at the door jolted Treize from his ponderings. "Enter."

            "Sir, this letter just arrived."

            Treize sighed. "Give it to my secretary like all the rest."

            "I'm sorry sir, but it was sent registered, from colony X-18999. It's marked 'urgent,' sir." 

            The mention of colony X-18999 caused the duke to pause mid-sip. He held his hand out to receive the document and dismissed the servant. Setting his wine on a near by table, he sat back and perused the envelope. It was fine engraved stationary, the kind wealthy patrons insisted on using despite the practicality of electronic communication. No return address, written in a neat, feminine hand. Treize hesitated a moment before carefully opening the delicate paper. He fingered the stationary fondly a few seconds, trying to muster enough courage to unfold the document and read what she had to say. 

                        _Dear Treize,_

_                        I have hesitated in contacting you for fear of upsetting your life, but events are such that I feel compelled to write. There is no easy way to say this, so I hope you will forgive my bluntness. One year  ago, I gave birth to our daughter. As you can see from the enclosed photograph, she is a fine, healthy girl with my hair and her father's lovely eyes. I have named her Marimeia in honor of my mother, May and your mother, Marie. I hope I did not presume too much in doing so. I know this must be a shock and please know that I have never intended to be a burden to you. Circumstances of late, however, necessitate my asking your assistance in the care of our child. Rest assured I do not require money or expect any consideration for myself, but our daughter is in need of your protection. Please contact me as soon as you receive this._

_I look forward to seeing you once more, my dear Treize._

_Love always, _

_Leia_

Treize sat in stunned silence, staring at the paper in his hand. His eyes lingered on one word. Daughter. He had a daughter. He and Leia. The shocked man retrieved  the envelope and looked inside for the photograph. It was a small snapshot, but the image was clear. Leia--beautiful, angelic Leia—standing in a park, under the shade of a large oak. Cradled in her arms was a tiny copy of herself. Tousled red hair, pink skin, joyous smile…all in perfect imitation of her mother. Except the child stared into the camera with his eyes. Treize picked up his wine glass and drained it in one gulp. A child. His child.

The young duke traced the outline of the child's cherubic face. She was lovely. Truly very lovely. And she was part of him. A small corner of his soul, the tiny part that allowed the possibility, leaped for joy. He was only twenty, but felt and acted twice that. Unlike most young men his age, Treize was well prepared for the responsibility of fatherhood. A daughter. A little princess to spoil and adore. His mother would have been thrilled to have a granddaughter and namesake. Treize stood and began pacing the length of his office, imagining all the wonderful gifts he could shower on the child. He passed a large cabinet and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished glass. He froze. 

The sight of his formal Specials uniform brought the young man crashing back to reality. He was commander of the Specials, next in line to command OZ and Romefellar. It was not in his destiny to be father to this child. It couldn't be in his destiny. One reason Treize insisted on recruiting orphans was to prevent the ties of blood from casting a shadow over OZ's purpose. In his case, the complications of a family were a detriment to his ability to lead effectively. He had to be free of all ties, free of the possibility for coercion. He had enemies, within and without. The Alliance, The Colonies, even in Romefellar. If any of them found out he had a child…Not only would his little princess be in danger, Treize would have a weakness. If he was to cleanse the world of its warring ways, to create a safe and orderly society for his child to grow up in, Treize needed to act without worrying about the consequences to any one person. 

"Forgive me, Leia…my beloved little Mairemaia."

 Treize gazed at the photograph for several moments, then picked up the letter, crumpled it and set in an ashtray. He picked up an ornate silver lighter and set fire to the paper. He watched the paper flare brightly and begin to die out. He held the photo near the flame, ready to render it a pile of ash as well, but pulled it away. Surely it would not hurt to keep the photograph. If he kept it with him at all times, there was no chance his enemies might discover it. After all, to do so they would have to search his person, not something that was likely to happen unless His Excellency was killed. Then it would be useless.

He tucked the small snapshot inside his uniform pocket and left.             

==============================

 " 'Weakness gives birth to strength,' " Lucretzia Noin read aloud from a little book in a frustrated tone of voice, "What. Ever." She slammed the small book shut and stared at it. Well she was about as weak as they come, she decided, so she ought to be pretty damned strong any minute now. She sat on a small outcropping of  rock at the summit of Mount Elgon, northwest of Lake Victoria Academy. The discouraged cadet wore full battle gear, which looked a little worse for wear, and sat with a paint rifle at her feet. War games were over, the other cadets made their way down the mountain hours ago, including her own team, and here she sat. Defeated. She lost.

Noin had planned everything so carefully. The week prior had been spent in last minute preparation for the battle. Her team was found on the practice field as often as the other three, but what no one else saw were the extra meetings in small groups, the off time spent pouring over maps, the careful assignment of duties. She had her team well versed in her battle strategy. The day before maneuvers, the other three groups were frantically squeezing in extra practice time, drilling incessantly. Her team was sent to their quarters to get sleep. When the rest of the campus was in bed, her team slipped out and began to implement Noin's plan. Fake maps with wrong markings, uniform markers from the other teams, and other small deceptions were the crux of her strategy. Several small teams were sent ahead to ensconce themselves around the mountain. At just the proper moment, they would appear, just out of firing range and pretend to be scouts for the opposing groups on their way to meet up with their teammates. Ideally, their opponents would follow, hoping to annihilate the enemy before reaching the summit. Maps with fake battle strategies were "dropped" in various locations, also meant to lead the others astray. While the other three teams were trying to decimate each other, Noin's team, split up into several smaller units, would sneak up the mountain, retrieve the flag and sneak back down. She hoped to be the one to take the flag, but as long as it was one of her teammates, she didn't really care. It was working beautifully too, until something happened. 

Actually, Zechs happened. Noin had indeed managed to lead her part of the team to the flag and was within a few feet of the clearing  when she was confronted by the top cadet himself. At least he was the top cadet, now. She just lost her ranking. By now, Zechs would be basking in the glow of victory, proudly praised by His Excellency and adored by the student body. Noin hadn't bothered to accompany her team back down the mountain. It didn't matter who came in second. There was victory and defeat. No trophies for almost. Besides, she was dead. For the tenth time in as many minutes, she looked down at the obnoxious red blotches on her shirtfront. Three perfect spots right in a row. She ground her teeth  in frustration and embarrassment. It was her own fault, she knew that, but she was pissed at him anyway. 

A few feet from the flag and she stopped short, spying Zechs Marquise sneaking up from a different angel. Had she taken aim and shot at that moment, victory would have been hers, but Noin was having too much fun. She whistled instead. Zechs whirled around, gun raised and stared down the barrel of her own weapon. She smirked and started to say something cute, but her statement was cut short by three shots in rapid fire succession. Without another word Zechs retrieved the flag and led his team back down. Noin was officially out of the game. She couldn't even order her team to leave. Thankfully she had prepared for that contingency, placing a cadet in charge of each individual group and issuing a standing order to retreat if she fell. So, here she was, several hours later, basking in the humiliation. She hated losing, even to Zechs, but that was only part of her problem. She could deal with the losing, even losing because of a stupid miscalculation on her part, but it was how she lost that infuriated her. She didn't simply suffer defeat at the hands of another cadet, Zechs humiliated her in the process.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied another cadet emerge from the trees and approach. She could tell who it was without actually turning to look. His gait was fluid, confident. He walked with his broad shoulders straight, his long legs easily covering the distance between them. She didn't look up when he came to a stop a foot away. The sun was behind him again. She didn't care to look up at his hair glowing golden in the sunlight. She didn't care to look into his clear blue eyes or accept his strong hand in a sportsmanly shake. Zechs could just stand and stare all he wanted. Noin had no intention of acknowledging him after what he did.

"It was a good plan," Zechs finally ventured.

Noin sat staring at the little volume in her hands, rubbing a thumb across the title. She gave no indication that she intended to answer. A month ago, Zechs would have been glad of her silence. Then again, a month ago, he would not have come in search of her. Strange how much things had changed. The young man stepped forward and stood looking down at his friend. At least, he hoped she was still his friend. They were still working on building a new friendship, re-learning all of the little quirks and foibles each possessed. He sometimes had trouble figuring Noin out. Not often. In some ways, she was still very much the girl Zechs once knew, but she had grown up quite a bit. Her attitudes and demeanor changed. She didn't giggle anymore. She didn't depend on him so much. Zechs was glad of most of the changes, particularly her new-found sense of independence, but part of him missed the little girl who used to impulsively fling her arms around him when he least expected.  

Zechs stood over her for a few minutes. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, like he should leave, but he didn't want to leave. He wanted everything to be all right again. Treize might be right about their destinies, but Zechs couldn't see how the brave, brilliant girl in front of him could possibly be a weakness. He watched Noin slip the book into her pocket and again tried to engage her in conversation.

"It almost worked, you know…" Still silence. "…if we hadn't discussed your book the other day, I wouldn't have figured out what you were planning…"

"So you were pumping me for information on my battle plan?" Though pleased that Noin finally responded, her tone almost wish for the silence to return.

"Of course not. I just meant that I remembered what you said that day and an elaborate ruse seemed very like you…"

"What do you mean by that? I can't fight properly, so I resort to tricks?"

"I didn't say that!"

Noin suddenly looked up at him and, without remark, drew her paint gun and casually fired three shots. One shot burst against each of the boy's knees and one splattered dramatically into his right shoulder. Zechs gritted his teeth and grunted as the projectiles struck. Though harmless, the paint pellets could potentially leave bruises and, when fired at such close range, stung like hell.

"There. Three shots. Three 'wounds' capable of disabling an enemy." She paused and frowned up at him. "_Disable_. You could have taken me out without killing me, we both know that."

"Yes. I could have, but my best chance at victory was to take you out completely."

            "Perhaps." Noin's reply was terse. 

            "Not 'perhaps.' I did what I had to in order to secure my objective." Zechs was beginning to get irritated himself. "The point of all of this was to simulate an actual mission. If I showed you any favoritism…"

            "So if we were actually in that situation, you'd kill me?"

            Zechs looked up at her, his anger beginning rise. "You're just mad because you could have shot me first and you didn't. You hesitated and I won."

            "You think I'm _jealous_? Why you arrogant little..."

            "I think you're irritated with your own weakness. You let our friendship get in the way of _your_ objective." 

Noin looked away suddenly. Zechs watched the muscles in her jaw flex and relax as she ground her teeth. He was right, for once, and it irked the hell out of her. Normally, this would have amused him, but the boy didn't like where the conversation was taking them. 

            "I have plans, Noin. I have to be the best to get what I want…" Zechs rubbed a hand across his chin and sighed, "Forget it. You wouldn't understand."

            "What you want is to demolish the Alliance…set fire to every soldier in a green uniform and watch them burn until there's nothing left but a gray pile of smoldering ash." Noin turned back to him, her expression tight and eyes flashing with a rage Zechs had never seen. She spoke slowly, her voice full of purpose and cold fury. "I've lost just as much as you have, Milliardo Peacecraft. Don't ever forget that."

            Zechs held her piercing gaze, finally allowing himself to really see what he had denied for so long. The use of his birth name was enough to demonstrate her determination. She did want to fight--and she had just as much right. Noin's priorities, however, were still wrong. She was still inclined to put her friends first, sacrificing her objective if necessary. She could never be the warrior he would be, nor did he wish it for her. It was his destiny to be damned, to be abhorred by every human being who survived him. Noin was the one who could rebuild and defend. He didn't really want to discuss it just then, but he had to say it sooner or later. Sooner might be best.

            "I'm glad we're friends, please believe that…"

            "But?"

            Zechs took a breath and looked straight ahead. "But this has to come first. I have a chance to avenge my family. Destroying the Alliance _has to come first_."

            "I know…"

            He turned his head slowly and studied Noin's expression. He hadn't expected that. He expected an argument. A comprehensive list of reasons why that was the wrong attitude. Instead he met with sad resolution. 

            "…and I am going to help." 

It was a statement, not a question. She wasn't asking permission and was unlikely to take 'no' for an answer. Zechs felt relieved. He should try to talk her out of it, he knew that, but he once again found selfishness superceding the desire to spare Noin the difficulties ahead. She was stronger. He needed that strength. He needed her. Zechs smiled softly.

            "Thank you."

Instead of replying with a smile of her own and acknowledging his appreciation, Noin continued to scowl at him. Obviously this was not yet finished. 

            "That still doesn't excuse what you did, Zechs."

            "I thought you said you understood."

"I do."

"Then why are you still mad?"'

"I understand why you shot me, but did you have to _humiliate_ me in the process? In front of my team?!"

"What are you talking about?"

 "You shot my…" she paused and crossed her arms protectively over her budding femininity, blushing lightly as she hunched over. "Never mind. It just hurt, all right?"

            It took a moment for Zechs to comprehend what she was trying _not_ to say. As the realization dawned on him, Zechs briefly glanced down to the paint splotches at Noin's chest, specifically where those splotches were located, then wrenched his eyes forward again. He felt his own face grow warm. He had simply aimed for the middle chest, the kill zone. He hadn't purposely shot her in the…well, _there_…but it was still embarrassing.

"I'm sorry…I didn't do it on purpose."

            Noin peeked at him from behind her hair and uncrossed her arms. "You didn't?"

            "I couldn't have. I'm not that good a marksman," He paused, glancing at Noin. "I couldn't possibly get a good aim at such small targets." His teasing was rewarded with a sharp punch in the arm.

"You creep." Noin failed miserably in her attempt to sound offended. "I can't believe you said that." She was barely able to contain a laugh as her expression softened to one of amusement. "You honestly didn't shoot me there just to embarrass me?"

"Honestly. I would never purposely humiliate you. Especially in front of other cadets." 

Satisfied with his answer, Noin finally sat up straight and looked down at her chest. "Hey, if I'm lucky, maybe there will be some swelling." 

"If you're lucky, the nurse won't mistake them for mosquito bites."

 "Oh, that's it, Lightenin' Boy!" Noin laughed as she grabbed her paint gun and stood. "Prepare to defend yourself!"

Zechs allowed an actual smile to spread across his face, relieved that the fight was over. He stood and executed a formal bow. "To paraphrase your beloved Sun Tzu, A true warrior knows when to fight and when to retreat to fight another day…in my case simply _live_ another day." He hesitated a moment before spinning on his heels and dashing off, with Noin in hot pursuit. 

=============================

"Excellency? Is something wrong?"

Treize started at the sound of Lady Une's low voice. "Not at all, Lady. I was just deciding what to offer. Would you care for some wine?" 

"No thank you, sir."

            Une watched Mr. Treize nod and proceed to pour himself a glass. The newly promoted major had been assigned to His Excellency's executive staff for only three weeks. Her move to Specials headquarters in Luxembourg took some getting used to, but the young woman found she enjoyed the charm of the city. She enjoyed her new position as the duke's chief of staff as well, but often found herself awkwardly sharing moments with her superior that had little to do with OZ. She was well aware of her employers reputation, especially with regards to women, but had only ever been treated with the utmost respect and confidence. On occasions such as this, however, Lady Une found herself uncertain of how to act, or more precisely, _re_act to her commander's social overtures. It didn't help that Mr. Treize had been rather distant and moody for the last few days. 

            Major Une watched the young man before her as he prepared his drink and walked to the window. He was by far the most elegant man she had ever met. This alone was not enough to impress her. Elegance, after all, was as much a matter of practice as nature, but Mr. Treize also possessed that rare spirit of honor that seemed lacking in so many of their class. If she had not already committed herself to the ideals of OZ before they met, her introduction to the noble young man before her would have certainly cemented her dedication. 

            "Have we covered everything, Lady?"

            Une remained silent for a moment, before realizing what he meant. "Yes, Excellency. I believe all of the important issues have been addressed."

            "Good, then there is another matter I wish to discuss with you." He paused to return to the desk and refill his glass. "I was thinking of hosting a ball at Lake Victoria. A chance to introduce the new crop of officers to Romefellar."

            "Excellent idea, sir. I'll begin preparations immediately."

            The young officers discussed the details. Treize chose the caterer and made suggestions as to music and appropriate décor as Lady Une diligently took notes. The basics set, they selected a date six months hence. Une was surprised that His Excellency did not wish to set a more urgent deadline, but was informed that a good ball takes time and a great ball takes at least half a year. A few more minor details were discussed and Une rose to leave.

"One more thing, Lady…"

"Yes, Excellency?"

"Attire will be formal," Treize paused to take a sip, "but no uniforms. Only the cadets will be in military attire."

Une responded with a slight nod and left the room. She started down the elaborate hall to her immaculately furnished office. No uniforms. Great. Just great. Now she had to go _shopping_. Une couldn't imagine anything more insufferable than wandering through the boutiques of the city, searching for something that did not make her look like a Barbie doll or a cake topper. One reason she preferred to be addressed by her rank and not her title had to do with Une's aversion to aristocratic social gatherings. She was a well-educated and accepted member of Society, in the old world sense, but she found as the years passed and war loomed that such grandiose displays of rank were not to her liking. Une was quickly learning to despise such frippery as unproductive and banal. 

His Excellency would most likely counter that such pageantry was what the public wished to see, that it set Romefeller apart from the sterility of the Alliance. The aristocracy provided an escape. They were living fairytales in robes and tiaras, just what the world needed. The benevolence of the nobility would be embraced by a people weary of the cold, stark regulations imposed by the Alliance. Romefeller lived in excesses and the world loved them for it. Mr. Treize would insist on all of these points. Une could see the logic in His Excellency's point of view, but had difficulty in embracing the idea. 

But that was neither here nor there. At that moment, her biggest concern was finding a proper, and not exceedingly obnoxious, party gown.

================= End Chapter 5 =====================

AUTHOR'S NOTES

There is a surprise near the beginning of the next chapter that I think all Zechs/Noin worshippers will enjoy. Mushy Romantic Sap Alert. You've been warned.

Evidently Walker doesn't have a first name, so I made one up. 

I'm trying to develop the set up for Noin's mysterious past and the origins of the equally mysterious crimson suit (yes, it is Epyon). Sorry to say, that none of this will actually be revealed until the last story in the series which is tentatively titled, "La Regina di Lila" (The Queen of Lilacs) or "Terra di Lila" (The Land of Lilacs). Both are from a suggestion by Timothy Thomasson (Thanks!). If you'd like to vote on which I should use, email me with an opinion.

Special thank you to Johnny Rage for helping me with this chapter and putting me on to a new research link. Did you know that there is actually a Lake Victoria in East Africa? And (luckily for me) there is a small mountain on one side, so my war games idea in worked. The lake, however, is several _hundred_ miles wide, so I had to cut out a scene where they swim from one shore to the other.

Disclaimer: Did all you lawyers finish your assignment? No? Well, now you've done it. Oh Mr. Boo-Bear! The Lawyers are bothering me!

Mr. Boo-Bear: Wha? They botterin' my lil Dante? GRRRRRR! BEWARE THE BOO-BEAR!!! GRRRRR[cough, cough, cough]RRRR!!


	6. A Birthday to Remember

This is a Christmas present to all my faithful and new readers! A new chapter within a week of the last! O.K. so I had most of it written already, but it still counts. The surprise I mentioned in the AN of the last chapter actually occurs near the end, not the beginning, of this chapter. No real plot development. Just a big ole bowl of steaming sap to tide you over until after the Holidays.  If you have a sensitive stomach, I'd suggest skipping this part and waiting for the next "real" chapter. If you're like me and just _need_ a little mush occasionally, this is for you! Enjoy! Still Grows the Lilac 

The Lilac Princess Book II

By Lady Dante

Chapter 6 

Lady Une sat at the small dressing table in her temporary quarters, fussing over her hair and lamenting His Excellency's penchant for parties. She expertly applied another layer of plum lipstick and surveyed her face. How did she manage to get herself into this? Une sighed, knowing very well that she couldn't blame Mr. Treize. He had asked her opinion and she said it was a wonderful idea. Oh, how she wished she could go back in time six months and change her answer to that question. Too late now. 

Une's aunt, the baroness Letitia Von Klemper, swept into the room wearing an elaborate gown. The young officer surveyed the woman who raised her. Letitia was an attractive woman of about fifty years, possessed of all the qualities one wished in a noblewoman. Her appearance never failed to evoke an image of ancient courts and balls of centuries past. If nothing else, Treize's social gathering provided Une the opportunity to spend time with her only living relative. She adored her aunt. Her mother, Letitia's younger sister, was little more than a faded image to Une, only occasionally replaced with a true recollection. It was her aunt who raised her, cared for her and saw to her education. They were not without their disagreements. Letitia had not really approved of Une's commission into the military branch of Romefellar, but with no male heir to serve in OZ, there seemed little choice. If her dear aunt had her way, Une would be in the marriage market right now, scouting for a suitable husband to advance her social position. 

"I absolutely adore the dress you've chosen, libeling," Une stopped pinning her hair up, waiting patiently for the "but" that was certain to follow, "But do you not think it a bit plain? It is to be a grand ball indeed, you should adorn yourself accordingly."

"I hardly think there is time for that now, Aunt. Besides, I prefer understated to grandiose."

Letitia smiled and stepped up behind her niece, catching her eye in the mirror. "And so you always have…just like my beloved sister." She leaned forward and kissed the top of the younger woman's head. Une smiled and continued dressing her hair. The baroness looked on for a moment, then frowned.

"What?" Une sighed. Letitia was a wonderful woman, but had very different ideas about proper dress.

"You have such lovely hair, just like your mother's…must you always bind it so? You look so much better with your hair down." 

As she spoke, the baroness began removing the pins and undoing the tight braids. Une relinquished control of her hair, knowing full well nothing she could say would dissuade her aunt's insistence. She didn't really mind. It had been quite a long time since she had shared a family moment with her aunt. Une was determined not to spoil the mood. As she sat obediently, Une allowed her thoughts to wander. This was not something she indulged in often as it had a troublesome affect on her. The young woman often found her strong military demeanor giving way to a more pliable manner. It was the lack of control that disturbed her the most, the feeling that someone else was in control of her body. She sensed that feeling now, slowly washing over her as a vague memory drifted forward. A courtyard in a winter's mist…she was remembering her mother again. 

"There we are! You are the living image of your dearest mother," Letitia's voice broke slightly as she gazed at Une, "so very much like her…"  

Une reached back over her shoulder and took her aunt's hand, "Thank you, Aunt. It's lovely."

"Shall we go then? I'm anxious to finally meet this duke of yours."

"He's not _my_ duke, Aunt, and I beg you do not suggest such a thing to him."

"Of course not," Letitia smiled with mock innocence, "I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything of the kind…"

            Downstairs in the elaborate ball room, Treize Kushrenada glided through the crowd with as much ease as possible considering his situation. The gracious young duke was stopped every other moment to be introduced to someone's daughter, granddaughter, or niece. It was uncommonly tedious this evening, but his façade of charm and grace did not betray the boredom that hung over him. His Excellency had hoped the gathering would lighten his mood, but found instead that the festivities and formalities only succeeded in amplifying his troubles. Treize's thoughts continually turned to the photograph tucked into his tuxedo pocket. Leia and Marimeia. He should be sharing a quiet evening home with them, not entertaining the elitists of Romefellar. 

            For the first time that evening, the young man frowned. He shook off the useless daydreams and grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter. The last thing he needed was to allow himself to dwell on the family he could never acknowledge. He needed to forget about them and focus on his plans. This party was as much to secure his position within Romefeller as to introduce its newest members to society. His advancement in OZ and ultimately assuming leadership of Romefeller itself were his chief concerns. Indeed, he could allow no other concerns to take precedence. He was willing to risk the mental health of his own brother to achieve those goals, how could ignoring his child be any worse than that? In the end, Treize was certain his schemes would bring about the world he so desperately wanted for those he loved. A world free of the destruction of war.

            Treize drained the last of his wine and traded the empty glass for a full one. His mood was suddenly dark and cross. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on such things. He had to move on. He needed a diversion. Treize raised the crystal goblet to his lips and let his eyes wander to the entrance. Just as the sweet liquid entered his mouth, he caught sight of a young lady and an older woman enter the ballroom. The suave and refined duke almost choked on his wine when he realized the identity of the young woman. 

            "Baroness Von Klemper and her niece, Lady Une." 

            The attendant announced the pair in the formal tone preferred by the older members of Romefeller and the elegant ladies proceeded into the room. Treize recovered himself just in time to greet the two. He bowed gracefully, kissing the baroness's hand and complimenting her gown. They spoke for quite some time about trivial matters only ever discussed at parties. Treize made certain to praise Une's work with the Specials to the young woman's aunt, wanting very much to win that lady's approval. The baroness was suitably charmed by the young man, smiling broadly every time she caught His Excellency staring at her beloved niece. Letitia expertly guided the conversation into matters that seemed to intrigue both young people and at length excused herself to greet an acquaintance, leaving Une and Treize alone together just as the dancing started.

            The couple found themselves in the middle of the dance floor, suddenly surrounded by couples preparing to take a turn. Treize smiled and requested the pleasure of the next dance. Lady Une accepted with equal grace and they took their places among the twirling couples. They did not attempt conversation, instead losing themselves in the steps. They danced two more dances together before Treize found himself being pulled away to greet more daughters, granddaughters, and nieces. He kept an eye on Une's whereabouts at all times, occasionally sending Zechs to rescue the young woman from some obnoxious young lord or boring old duke. After what Treize deemed a sufficient amount of mingling, he decided to take a bit of a break and sought out Une. They danced once again, this time chatting amiably. As they glided towards the glass doors leading to the back lawn and freedom, Treize asked if the lady would care to accompany him on a short walk. To his delight, she graciously agreed and they started for the door. Zechs ambushed them just as they reached the exit and a highly distracted Treize gave the boy leave to go. Offering the lady his arm, His Excellency escorted Une out into the crisp night air.

            At the other end of the grand hall, two very bored observers sat making snide remarks about the other guests.

            "Oh look at _that_ one!" 

Noin inclined her head slightly towards a young duchess in a particularly bouffant gown. It consisted of what had to be miles of tulle bound up with pink and green bows. Her companion almost choked on his drink.

            "Good grief, how did she fit that thing through the door?" Johnny gaped at the woman, shaking his head in amazement.

            "Maybe it deflates?" Noin suggested with a surprisingly straight face.

            "Must have a built in air pump." 

            The two chuckled softly, trying desperately not to draw attention to themselves. Neither was inclined to enjoy such formal occasions and found solace in each other's company between bouts of formal introductions and waltzes. Johnny had more practice in enduring such events and passed on his knowledge to a very grateful Noin. Tonight in particular, Johnny wished himself far away from every impeccable person there. It had been months now since he last attempted to pilot the mysterious crimson suit, but his obsession was as strong as ever. He hoped to have another crack at it once he was declared recovered by the base doctors, but discovered that his meddlesome brother had hidden the damned thing on the pretense that Johnny was needed elsewhere. His mood was growing dark and the young man angrily called to a waiter for another drink. Noin glanced at him in surprise, never having witnessed the instructor behave so erratically. Spotting Zechs nearby, the young woman waved him over, hoping he could brighten Johnny's mood. Zechs eagerly joined them, but just as he arrived Johnny stood and made a somewhat angry-sounding excuse and left.

            "What's with him?" Zechs inquired, puzzled.

            "I don't know. He was fine a minute ago."

            Zechs frowned and stared after his friend's rapidly retreating back. "Has he been drinking?"

            "A little, but he always drinks at parties, doesn't he?"

            "Yeah…" Zechs was about to add that he drank whether or not he was at a party, but decided against it and fell silent.

            "So, when do you think we can leave?" All of Ingrid's etiquette lessons had paid off that night, but Noin was still anxious to be rid of the suffocating crowd.

            "I'm not sure. Treize wants us to meet all of the Romefeller VIPs tonight," noticing Noin's scowl he insisted, "_both_ of us. He says it's important to our careers in OZ to make contacts now."

            "So we have to make nice with all these stuffy old men?"

            "They're not all old."

            "Yes, well, the young ones are just annoying."

            Zechs agreed with that comment as he reentered the crowd. He had more experience with this type of gathering, but knowing how to survive grand balls and the unwanted attentions of the young female guests did not make it any easier to bear. He spent most of the night kindly fending off teenaged duchesses and much to his chagrin, Noin seemed to be having the same problem with the male cadets. He and Noin had not been given the opportunity to spend any time together that evening. It seemed every time he found a moment to approach her, Treize would commandeer him for an introduction and a few minutes of pointless chatter. He finally gave up trying to dislodge himself from the foray and took comfort in the fact that Treize was becoming increasingly preoccupied with his assistant, Lady Une.  Zechs watched the two carefully, waiting for an opening. When his mentor seemed most distracted by Lady's charms, Zechs took a chance and asked the question. After a short exchange, the young count rejoined Noin.

            "We off the hook?"

            "Treize says I've met enough 'insipid social climbers' and I can sneak out as long as I'm not noticed."

            "Good. Let's get out of here before another silly cadet asks me for the pleasure of stepping on my toes."

            "Well, if you'd let them lead, I'm sure they wouldn't step on your toes."

            "Ha. Ha…Zechs," Noin interrupted herself and elbowed her cohort, "It's him."

            "You go right, I'll go left."

            The two made their way through the crowd towards the buffet table and the object of their current mission, the head cook. Though the affair was catered, the head cook insisted on supervising and took up station by the kitchens early in the evening. If they wanted to celebrate their birthday in private they needed to bump into that man. And so they did, literally. Noin gently brushed passed the man as Zechs jostled him a bit more severely. During the profuse apologies that ensued, Zechs expertly lifted the man's keys and excused himself. The two cadets snuck around to the furthest kitchen and let themselves in, snickering.

            "Well, it's nice to know you haven't lost your touch."

            "I knew picking pockets would come in handy later in life."

            The invaders carefully surveyed the area and, when they were certain the small sub-kitchen was empty, closed the doors and set about preparing a private birthday celebration. They had discussed the timing of the ball a few weeks before, annoyed that they would not be able to have dinner at the homestead, and decided on making themselves a chocolate cake to compensate, ingredients and oven courtesy Lake Victoria Academy. It was the least the Specials could do, considering they had to endure a tedious Romefeller ball on their fifteenth birthday. They set about collecting all of the necessary ingredients and Noin pulled out a folded piece of paper. She had managed to find a recipe very similar to Nana Ingrid's. She and Zechs began to assemble the items, occasionally arguing but ultimately producing a luscious batter. The cake was placed in the oven and the timer set. They managed to find a can of ready mixed frosting in one of the cabinets and opened it up in preparation for the cake's decoration. Naturally they sampled the confection to make certain it was edible.

            "Now what?" Zechs licked the last bit of chocolate frosting from his finger and sighed. 

            Noin finished off her taste and consulted the recipe. "This says to bake for forty-five minutes…ugh…we have to wait that long?"

The music started up again, this time playing a familiar waltz. Zechs reached over and tugged Noin's sleeve, "Come on."

"Pardon me?" Noin replied haughtily, "Is that any way to ask a lady to dance?"

Zechs mouth curved slightly as he executed a perfectly formal bow and held out his hand, "Will you honor me, Miss Noin?"

Noin curtseyed and took his hand in consent. "I would be delighted, Count Marquise."

"You do understand that _I_ will be leading?"

"If you must…but I still don't think it's fair." 

Noin twirled herself into his arms and the pair paused a moment to pick up the beat. They glided as easily over the linoleum as they would on a hardwood ballroom floor, turning gracefully at the corner of the large counter and continuing down the other side. Faint strains of music floated into the room gently, lulling the couple into a comfortable silence as they took another turn. Only the slight clack and slide of boot heels disrupted the perfect quiet. Noin smiled up at her partner and for the first time allowed herself to admire him. He was turning out to be a very handsome young man. It was not a new thought, but one she usually pushed away rather quickly. After all, this was _Zechs_. Her best friend and most annoying rival. The boy she used to share a cot with when they were eight. Of course, Noin had thought of him as a brother then. Now, she felt…well, whatever it was she felt for the tall young man, it certainly had nothing to do with sisterly affection. Admitting that to herself caused a blush to rise to the young woman's cheeks and she looked down. 

Noin suddenly became acutely aware of her partner's touch. The feeling of his palm pressed gently into her back, fingers splayed wide, the delicate way he held her hand. She realized that it had been a very long time since anyone had held her, years in fact. Not since she left the convent. Noin was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. Zechs was close enough that she could smell the faintly pleasant scent of shampoo and cologne. Or was it aftershave lotion? When did Zechs start shaving? That was a stupid thought, she decided. They were fifteen today and set to graduate in a few months. As the top two cadets, both she and Zechs were already being offered posts in elite mobile suit divisions. They were practically grown. 

"Watching your feet won't help."

Noin looked up to find Zechs smirking. Actually, it was  a "Zechs smirk," which meant simply that his eyes sparkled and one side of his mouth curved slightly. 

"Well…your feet are bigger than they used to be, so I thought I'd better be on my guard."

"Trust me, remember? I won't lead you astray."

Noin smiled up at her partner softly, recalling Ingrid's many lessons. Always allow the gentleman to lead. She always had a tough time with that one. She never liked the idea of letting someone else be in charge. Except Zechs. She might not always agree with him, but Noin was willing to follow his lead. Even now, as they waltzed gracefully around the darkened kitchen, Noin did not hesitate to accept the subtle guidance of his hand on the small of her back. She continued to hold his gaze as the dance continued, oblivious to the light smile on her lips until she saw a similar expression on the face of Zechs. Gradually their movements slowed and ceased as the music evaporated. The couple remained as they were, still holding each other as though waiting for the music to start up again and stared into each other's eyes. Zechs shifted slightly, almost uncomfortably, and leaned forward. Noin felt her heart skip a beat and stopped breathing. Noting the now irritating height difference, she began to raise herself up on her toes. 

Both cadets jumped at the sound of the kitchen timer buzzing obnoxiously. They quickly separated, both blushing profusely as one rushed to silence the offending alarm and the other pulled the cake out of the oven. Noin nervously dislodged the cake from the pan and set it on a dish to cool. The frosting would melt if they put it on the cake too soon, so they once again had to wait. The music had not resumed and neither would have been comfortable dancing again in any case, so Noin suggested they take a walk outside. The young friends stepped out into the cool night air and started walking aimlessly across the lawn towards a small grove. They walked in silence for sometime, weaving in between the hedge bushes and young trees to a small path that cut through the brush.

            Zechs put his hand on Noin's arm to stop her progress along the path. "Did you hear that?" Zechs whispered with a frown. Someone else was out there. Noin nodded silently and took a cautious step forward. They stopped short upon realizing the others were Treize and Une. The cadets looked around hurriedly, attempting to find a means of escape without alerting the officers to their presence. None to be found, they glanced at each other and silently agreed just to stand perfectly still and hope His Excellency would just walk past. To their annoyance, the couple stopped a few feet away and began talking. 

            "It's a nice evening. The sky is so clear one can almost reach out and collect the stars."

            "Yes," Une murmured as she looked up, "incredibly beautiful…"

            "Beautiful," Treize repeated, gazing at the lady on his arm. 

            Une looked over and was startled to find His Excellency staring at her. She made some innocuous comment, meant to steer the conversation to some safe topic, but Mr. Treize continued to stare at her in the most extraordinary way. She recognized the look, she had seen it enough in other men's eyes, but Une was unsure how to react to her superior's scrutiny. He had been particularly attentive that evening, a truly gracious host. The young woman had to admit, his attentions were quite welcome, but they had at some point passed the point of social nicety and moved into something else altogether. Even now, as they discussed the ball, the guests and a host of other mundane topics, his body language hinted at his motives. 

            Treize took both of Une's hands in his own, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs as he complimented the quartet's fine performance. He lifted one hand to his lips and paused to lightly kiss it before continuing with his statement about the caterer's choice of wines. Every dull comment was accompanied by a physical gesture implying something very different. Une accepted each gesture while replying with equally dull comments. It was a perfect night. The air was clean, the sky exquisite, and Treize Kushrenada was making subtle romantic overtures. It wasn't as though the thought never occurred to Une. She had on many occasions, in fact, caught herself pondering His Excellency in just such a way. Those thoughts were always dismissed as impossible. Either she convinced herself of his disinterest or reminded herself of the certain evils inherent in becoming involved with a superior officer. Now however, Treize's affections seemed to be within her grasp. What would it be like, Une wondered, if she allowed herself a romance with one of the most powerful men in OZ? More importantly, how would it affect her career?

            As much as she respected Treize's ideals and leadership, his personal life left quite a bit to be desired. Was it possible to have a romantic relationship with His Excellency and still continue to serve by his side? As much as she sometimes wished otherwise, her heart did not work that way. She could not divide her feelings in such a manner, splitting herself between love and duty. Love. It wasn't something she ever sought, believing her commitment to OZ and Romefellar more important, but now she found herself faced with the possibility of …what? It suddenly occurred to Une that His Excellency was not likely to take this affair as seriously as she. What was he truly offering her? Temporary pleasure balanced against her lifetime duty.

            And so, it would seem, she must choose. Share the warmth of his bed for a few months or remain the faithful assistant. One option would render her obsolete all too quickly, the other would assure her ability to fight at his side and see the objectives of OZ come to fruition. It was a surprisingly difficult decision for Une, but ultimately she decided on the latter. The proposition of a more intimate relationship with Treize was intriguing, to be certain, but Lady Une had no intention of being one of scores of women admitted to His Excellency's bedchamber…one of a sea of faces whose names blended and blurred into obscurity. No way in hell she was going to be one of the many. Une placed a hand on his chest, firmly halting his advance.

            "I don't think this is a good idea, Mr. Treize." 

            Treize stopped and stared. It was a rare thing to be turned down, he wasn't certain how to take it. Une was perfectly correct, of course. They worked together, she was a subordinate, the list of reasons was long. Also, and more importantly, he truly respected Lady Une. Using her to quash the lingering memory of Leia Barton was not fair to either of them. Une was worth too much to him, as an officer and a person, to play this little game, a game he knew all too well. She was not one of the hothouse flowers or painted predators His Excellency usually dallied with. This woman was strong and forthright. A little misguided in some of her opinions, but a faithful member of OZ.  He saw a fleeting look of concern mar the young woman's lovely  face and realized Une was worried she had offended him.

            "Quite right, Lady." Treize took hold of her hand and kissed it with a gentleman's formality. "I hope I have not caused offense."

            "No, sir."

            "Then shall we return to the party?" 

His Excellency offered his arm and smiled as Lady Une took it. As the pair slowly strolled back to the ballroom, they did not notice two sets of eyes watching them from the shadows. Zechs and Noin had witnessed the entire scene with deep embarrassment. They remained rooted to their hiding place for several minutes after the older couple departed, too self-conscious to speak. Zechs shifted uncomfortably. Seeing Treize attempt his classic pick-up had planted a thought or two in the young count's head, thoughts about the girl by his side. Since the day he sketched Noin while she slept, Zechs had become increasingly aware of the girl's beauty and grace. Once or twice, he had caught himself staring at her during training exercises. Sometimes, when he was standing close to Noin, he felt as clumsy and awkward as Eliot Walker. She was the only person that ever made Zechs feel anything but confident and self-assured. Those stray thoughts made him feel strange. After all, it was _Noin_ for pity's sake. They had known each other for ten years now, watched each other grow up. Once upon a time he thought of her as a sister. He ventured a glance at her now. He certainly didn't consider her a sister any longer. She was much more than that.

"I can't believe that was old Lady Uney Buns…" Noin breathed in shock.

"I can't believe someone actually turned down…" Zechs stopped short and looked down at his friend, "_Uney Buns_?"

"Uh…you didn't hear that."

They both snickered at the awful nickname for a few moments. The sound died down, once more leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. Noin looked up at Zechs and, despite a sudden shyness, studied his face. It was dark out, but the night was clear and the moon shone bright enough to highlight every fine detail of the boy's face. No, not a boy anymore, she corrected. Her thoughts bent towards the party they had luckily managed to escape. All evening, she watched Zechs dancing with scores of young ladies. Cadets from their class, young noblewomen, even some of the older ladies. He was charming and attentive to all of them. Every last one. She suddenly felt a little irked. It was foolish of her, she knew. Zechs had been attending parties such as this since he was twelve. He knew how to work a room almost as well as His Excellency, but that didn't signify Zechs _meant_ any of it. Or did he?  
            "Zechs have you ever done that?" Noin blurted out the question so suddenly, she managed to startle herself as much as Zechs.

"Done what?"

Noin closed her eyes briefly, feeling mortified by her lack of reserve. Oh well. Too late now. Might as well ask. "Kissed anyone."

"Oh." Zechs looked at his feet and quietly responded. "No."

"Really?" Noin hadn't meant to sound so incredulous at the thought, but it was too late to play it cool now.

"Really," Zechs chuckled softly, "but thank you for being surprised." He looked over at her and asked, "Have you?"

Noin paused a moment before answering, her thoughts resting on the day in Livorno when Paolo kissed her goodbye. She was trying to decide if that counted. After all, it was only a peck on the cheek and she didn't return the gesture. "No…and you had better be surprised, too."

"Absolutely astounded."

Noin smiled at him, quite relieved that they could joke their way out of a potentially awkward conversation. Her mind, however, lingered on the question she had posed. Zechs had never been kissed and neither had she. Noin had to admit that her curiosity had gotten the better of her over the past few months. She had always rolled her eyes at the silly girls who gushed over their first kisses. It seemed so juvenile to her at the time. They were there to become soldiers, not get dates. A soldier's life had nothing to do with romantic entanglements. As she progressed through adolescence, though, Noin found herself wondering what it was like. Any time she had such a thought, the next was sure to be of Zechs. There were plenty of boys her age at the academy who would have eagerly offered to be her first kiss, but Noin barely noticed any of them outside of classes. Zechs on the other hand…

"Do you want to try it?" Once again she spoke more quickly than she should have, but Noin courageously looked up at Zechs and held his somewhat surprised gaze. After a moment or two of silence, she felt her courage slipping and almost turned away.

"Yes," Zechs replied quietly, turning to face her, "if you'll allow."

Noin smiled at his formality and stood in front of him. They looked at each other blankly. "Now what?"

"How should I know?"

"You've had the opportunity to observe Treize _and_ Johnny…I assumed you learned _something_."

"Well…here," he picked up Noin's hands and placed them on his shoulders, resting his own at her waist. "Now close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That is just how it's done." 

Noin looked dubious, but obeyed. Zechs followed suit and leaned forward, but a little too quickly. They both tilted their heads in the same direction and managed to painfully bump noses. They both exclaimed and pulled back, hands over noses. Noin broke into nervous giggles which seemed to annoy an embarrassed Zechs. His angry scowl prompted the poor girl to laugh harder. She wasn't really amused, just nervous and embarrassed. The harder she tried to stop, the more she giggled.

"Will you stop that?" 

Zechs was beginning to sound mad, but Noin couldn't help herself. This was all so weird. She was about to share her first kiss with a boy whose clothes she once wore, her best friend… a _prince_. Her life was beginning to sound like one of the fairy tales Zechs used to make up for her when they shared that cot in the refugee camps. They were both far different from the open-hearted children they had been. Neither was inclined to storytelling or such open affection anymore. Life and OZ had slowly beaten that out of them. Noin knew that indulging in this kiss would change things between them as well. Not that she was likely to melt into a swooning pool of silliness like those other girls or that she and Zechs couldn't continue being friends, but something would be different. The last bit of their child hood would evaporate. Noin wasn't certain she was ready for that. She finally managed to sober herself and apologized with a blush. Zechs' aggravation softened somewhat and he smiled.

"Want to try that again, Miss Noin?"

"Certainly…go left."

"Roger."

Noin kept her eyes open briefly as they leaned towards each other until she was sure they wouldn't bump into one another again. She allowed her eyelids to settle shut as she raised herself up on her toes and met Zechs halfway, pressing her lips delicately to his. They remained like that several moments before Zechs finally slid his hands around to Noin's back and pulled her closer. Noin allowed her instincts to take over and began to gently move her lips against his, pleased to feel the young man's eager response.  As the kiss continued, she moved her hands from Zechs' shoulders to his face, timidly stroking soft skin and passing her fingers through his flaxen hair. Her mind blanked of any conscious thought. All that remained were sensations...smell, touch, taste. Spicy cologne, warm lips with a hint of sweetness remaining from their earlier indulgence in frosting. Zechs' hands flat against her back, pulling her forward. The softness of his hair. She combed her fingers through the silken locks and met with the band Zechs used to keep his now shoulder-length hair tied back. Noin boldly tugged the band out and ran her fingers through the strands. With the other hand, she cradled the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. 

It seemed like hours before the kiss was finally broken and when they did part, the couple remained close. Their faces were an inch apart, their breath mingling. Neither wanted to let go just yet and so lingered in each other's arms for a few more precious moments. Noin tried to steady her breathing and slowly lowered herself from tiptoes, keeping her eyes closed. She looked up a moment later when she felt Zechs gently press his lips to her forehead. They looked at each other a few moments, surprisingly without awkwardness.

"Thank you, Noin."

"Thank you, Zechs." Noin grinned. "Let's go eat that cake before someone else find it."

The walked lightly back to the kitchen chatting about all manner of things as they heaped creamy chocolate frosting on the warm cake. They cut into it immediately and poured themselves two large glasses of milk. The ate most of delicious desert, leaving only one slice with a note and the keys for the head cook. Finishing off the last of their birthday cake, Noin raised her glass of milk. 

"Happy Birthday, Zechs." 

            Zechs tapped his glass to hers. "Happy Birthday, Noin."

**Seven months later…**

 "Geez, I'm so happy to get rid of that organ grinder's hat!" 

Noin watched her uniform cap land in a pile of other caps and grinned as she ran her fingers through her hair. Graduation. She and Zechs were both officers now. Out of each class, the top 10 students were generally commissioned into OZ as full lieutenants, skipping the lower rankings in order to put their command talents to better use. Two days from that moment, Noin and Zechs were to assume positions in Johnny's elite mobile suit division. Front line, the first into battle. The idea of being in combat once more was a bit daunting to Noin, but exciting as well. She and Zechs would finally have the opportunity to fight the Alliance. As welcome as the opportunity was, she couldn't help feel a little melancholy over the prospect of leaving the Academy life behind.

"That's it then." She sounded relieved and a little sad. 

 "We're officers." Zechs looked down as he considered their new responsibilities. 

"Yes, we are."

"Lieutenants."

"With all the perks."

"Better pay."

"Better quarters."

"Better uniforms."

"Yeah, for _you._ This lowly commoner is stuck with the green bellhop's uniform."

"Yes, but you get to add a _cape_."

"Oh, yeaaah. I forgot…now I get to look like a bellhop with a _cape_."

They laughed at their silliness and walked back towards the main complex. As they arrived at the women's dorms, Zechs turned to his companion. 

"Congratulations Noin." He held out his hand to his friend. Noin looked from his hand back to his face and smirked. Zechs narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're going to hug me, aren't you?"

"Well, I think I pretty much have to, yes. It's in the rule book somewhere."

Zechs braced himself bravely. "Well, if you must."

Noin smiled and put her arms around the young man's neck, squeezing gently. After a moment's hesitation, Zechs returned the embrace, laying his cheek against Noin's soft hair. The scent of her lilac shampoo gently drifted over him and the young officer closed his eyes. Noin nuzzled against his neck, showing no indication of pulling away. Zechs smiled and held her tighter. He rarely allowed moments such as this, but he was glad to acquiesce in this case. Soon  they would report for duty with Johnny's mobile suit division, become real soldiers of OZ, well on their way to exacting a bloody revenge upon the Alliance. They would adopt the ambiguous relationship forced upon them by their ranks and relative social positions. Today, in that moment's embrace, they could be what their hearts dictated…best friends.

===================== End Chapter 6 =====================

How was that scene with Treize and Une? I like Une, so I see her as being spunky and independent enough not to give in to lust, even if it means rejecting Treize.

Credits/Acknowledgements: 

1. Thanks to her Evilness--that Une-wannabe, OZ recruiter and future Queen of the World--the Evil Chibi, for pulling out the GW tapes on a day when I didn't feel like writing and generally making a nuisance of herself. I love you, you little pest. 

2. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for reading my story as well as Preventer Storm for hosting and promoting it on her site. I like getting feedback and I appreciate every thing you've all said in your reviews and emails. I've never let so many people read one of my stories before. Before FFN, I let maybe five or six people actually read my stuff (not counting bedtime stories for EC).You have no idea how much your support has helped my confidence! Happy Holidays! 

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Gundam Wing. Sprrt! Bite my toenails lawyerman! It's _Christmas_!!!!


	7. The First Casualty of War

**AN: Sorry for the delay, but my brain was holding this chapter hostage until I dealt with some other stuff. Better late than never right? I made up for the lateness with length. A lot happens in this chapter, so pay attention. I've used another bit from Relena's Episode Zero, but it now happens when she is 13, not 11 & I tweaked it. **** ** **Still Grows the Lilac **

Book II of The Lilac Princess

By Lady Dante

Chapter 7

_The First Casualty of War… _

            It was finally over. 

            Lieutenant Zechs Merquise walked along the battle field, surveying the havoc wreaked by the twelve mobile suits under his command. Smoke rose from the ground in a sickening mist, dulling the clarity of the gruesome scene before him. There was a town there only an hour ago and now all that remained were dead bodies strewn haphazardly among the rubble. Dead bodies, fleeing survivors and the stench of war. This was victory. This was his destiny.

He did this. 

"You're not the one who invaded this town, Zechs. That terrorist group took these people hostage. We had no choice."

Zechs didn't turn to see who spoke. There was no need. His fellow pilot, Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin, was the only one  in the unit brave enough to speak to him after a battle. It had been well over a year since they joined Johnny's elite company of mobile suits. A year of almost constant battle. Johnny was the battalion commander with Zechs, Noin and two other Specials lieutenants each in charge of a separate platoons. Their company was the best in the Specials, awarded more commendations than any other in the history of the organization. Their defeats were few and far between, mainly due to the high level of leadership and teamwork among the group's officers. 

Today's battle was a prime example of the exceptional strategic skills of the young officers. A terrorist cell retreating from a previous battle ensconced themselves in a settlement near the French border. Zechs' response was a two pronged attack, his troops storming the town and flushing out the enemy, sending them straight into the waiting sites of Noin and her troops. It worked brilliantly. The terrorists were captured or killed, their victims liberated. And a third of the town's population lay bleeding or dead. Victory once again and once again at the cost of innocent lives.

"Is that what you've been telling yourself ? That there was no other way?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Is it working?"

"Not really, no," Noin answered quietly as she stepped to his side. "I thought saying it out loud might help."  

They stood in silence for some time, simply looking at the carnage before them and remembered a time, not so very long ago when they were refugees from war instead of its instigators. Zechs never knew what to do in those moments after a battle, when calm began to descend once again, even as the fires lingered. His men were always dispatched to clean up, securing the prisoners and aiding survivors, but as their leader, Zechs was relegated to observe from a distance. He did so now, watching the scene through the dark lenses of his sun glasses. The shades were unnecessary this late in the day, in fact, they were quickly becoming a hindrance to his vision. The sky was growing increasingly dark with the setting sun, as was Zechs' mood. He hid behind those glasses, unwilling to see the devastation in its full intensity. 

"We should get back and report to Johnny."

"Yes," Zechs agreed but neither moved. They remained as they were for several more minutes, staring out at the same wasteland they traveled as children.

"Zechs…"

"I know."

=================================

            A hundred miles away, Johnny and the remainder of the company were in the process of securing a base of operations at a sprawling chateau in the French countryside. As was his privilege as a Specials officer, the young lieutenant colonel was empowered to commandeer any structure and supplies necessary to support his company's operations. Unlike his counterparts in the Alliance regulars, Johnny took advantage of the dispensation only when absolutely essential and took care that his officers were no more of a nuisance than necessary. Anyone under his command who dared treat any inhabitant of an occupied town with disrespect was punished severely, not that the situation ever arose. He was careful in his choice of junior officers. Zechs Merquise and Lucretzia Noin held themselves to a standard even higher than those imposed by OZ. 

The only luxury Johnny allowed himself at the lush estate he now occupied, was free run of the wine cellar. He did ask, however, before taking anything, though a denial was hardly likely. He stood in the courtyard of the estate with a particularly fine selection of local wine and smirked at the reaction such a fine collection would extract from His Excellency.

Johnny scoffed. His Excellency. The grand Duke Treize of house Kushrenada. Golden boy of Romefellar. Hypocrite extraordinaire. His brother. It seemed the closer they came to achieving their goals, the further he and Treize grew apart. They had never totally agreed on anything, whether it be battle strategy, politics or how to mix a perfect martini, but until recently, the brothers had always managed to work around their difficulties. Lately, however, it seemed all of their conversations, no matter how trivial, ended in argument. That day's long-distance dispute was about a more serious subject. The crimson mobile suit.

Johnny had last piloted the suit six months previous. The attempt was successful, but once again the operating system had created a problem with the young officer's ability to reason. He had used the suit in several battles, but never officially. It was important to Treize that Romefellar not learn of the suit, so he was careful of the time and situations for its use. Although he agreed that the suit should not fall into the hands of the old half-wits, Johnny could not see why he should not be allowed to use the suit at his own discretion. It was a remarkable instrument when placed in the proper hands, and those hands should be his. The current disturbances that broke out with alarming frequency these days would be no problem for him. If he had that suit. At the moment he didn't even know where it was. Treize had taken to hiding it from him, only sending it when he felt a special mission warranted its use. 

The lieutenant colonel poured himself a shot of whiskey and smirked to himself. Unbeknownst to his dear big brother, Johnny had a couple of his best operatives tracking the suit. Any moment he expected to receive a report as to its current location. He kept constant tabs on its whereabouts, waiting for the opportunity to take it. He felt no qualms about stealing it. That suit belonged to _him_, not Treize. It was Johnny who conquered the damned thing. He almost died for it, he _would_ die for it. Johnny abruptly started pacing. His movements became progressively frantic and irrational. The suit spoke to _him_, no one else. Treize kept the suit hidden because he was jealous. Yes, that was it. Treize wanted to pilot that suit himself. He even named it. Epyon. What the hell kind of name was _Epyon_? Johnny was the one who unlocked its mysteries, who heard its call. Now Treize wanted all of the glory, as usual. 

Johnny stopped and hurled his glass to the smooth stoned surface of the courtyard. He would not tolerate it. Treize could have the glory, the recognition, their father's name, but he damned sure wouldn't have that suit. The young man rushed back into the mansion, barking orders at his stunned staff. He made arrangements for a private plane to be ready for take off within the hour. His last act before storming out was to contact Zechs and instruct him to take temporary command of the unit. With that, Johnny left France to confront his brother. 

That mobile suit would be his, one way or another.        

===============================

            Nighttime again and once again he couldn't sleep. It had been years since Zechs had such trouble with his nightmares, but it seemed the terrors of his past refused to lay dormant indefinitely. Once more he took up the habit of wandering the halls in search of a peaceful place to pass the dark hours and wait for dawn. Insomnia did have one advantage. His nightly vigil had given him the opportunity to view the beautiful structure without the hindrance of young Specials staffers scurrying about. He was not on duty, his uniform left behind in favor of a simple pair of pants and a button down shirt. Alone in the stillness, Zechs could at last allow the artist that lurked in his heart to enjoy the exquisite creations that dripped from every ornate wall. Almost a millennium of war had some how missed this great place. The collection of paintings and sculpture defied the cold reality of war with their soulful display of human creativity. The building was a work of art itself. Every detail, from the peak of the roof to the etched hinges on the doors, spoke of beauty and grace.

            This night, his wandering led Zechs to the music room on the east side of the mansion. In it sat twin grand pianos, polished and perfect, surrounded by rows of antique arm chairs. It reminded him very much of another conservatory destroyed long ago. His mother's piano was her prized possession and sat in a place of honor among the fine instruments that populated the Cinq royal residence. Zechs walked to one of the pianos and plunked a few keys. One of his earliest and most treasured memories was of lying beneath his mother's piano while she played. The sound was all together different from underneath. It seemed to radiate through his bones into his very heart. Years later, when he finally had the opportunity, Zechs learned to play the piano so that he could recreate that feeling.

            The young man sat on the upholstered bench in front of the marvelous instrument and began to sift through a small stack of sheet music. He selected a charming, but relatively simple piece and began to play. After glancing over the piece to memorize the melody, Zechs allowed his eyes to flutter shut and let his instinct guide his fingers. He was not as good as his mother, few were, but he played as Queen Katrina played. With his heart. He concluded the piece, leaving his eyes closed until the last whispering note faded. Zechs finally opened his eyes once more when he sensed someone watching him. Noin stood at the far end of the piano, smiling softly. Her head was tilted slightly and she was dressed in a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and, Zechs noted with amusement, no shoes.

            "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd be honored, milady."

"Zechs," Noin warned as she plopped down on the bench, "cut the 'milady' crap."

"As you wish, milady." 

She scowled in his direction, but Zechs noticed that her attempt to look annoyed was half-hearted. He enjoyed teasing her about her newly conferred title, particularly when the result was a charming blush. The term 'knight' was not metaphorical any longer. She was, indeed, Lady Lucretzia Noin, a card-carrying member of Romefellar, though she took no pleasure in the honor. Zechs, on the other hand, took great pleasure in harassing her about her new station. To make up for his snide remark, he launched into a quiet rendition of one of Noin's favorite songs. His ploy had the desired effect and Noin smiled.

"Treize called while you were on patrol."  
            "Oh? What instructions did His Excellency have for us this evening?"

"He is, quote, 'pleased with our fine leadership and wish to hold out our efforts out as a beacon and an example to our comrades-in-arms.' End quote."

"In Treize-speak, that means he wants us to throw a ball."

"Yep."

"Well, as little as I enjoy such functions, they do serve a purpose. It will be our first chance to play host to the upper ranks."

"_Your_ first chance. You are in charge remember? If this doesn't go over well, you're on your own."

Zechs gave Noin a sideway glance and caught the playful smirk spread across her face. "Come now. You wouldn't abandon a comrade on the eve of battle would you? What the hell do I know about caterers?"

"More than me. How about you arrange the food and I arrange the entertainment?"

"All right then. Canned cheese on crackers it is."

"Accompanied by the finest accordion players money can rent."

Zechs enjoyed the familiar, but all too rare, joking with his friend. It was one of the rare moments when he actually felt his age. He and Noin were barely seventeen, but their lives were so full of responsibility and obligation that he sometimes forgot. There were days Zechs felt so old, so ancient that he wondered at his ability to live another day. The crush of time so dominated his spirit in those moments that it seemed impossible to go on. But just as he felt he was nearing the end instead of beginning his life, something always happened to bring out the youth within. Something to remind him that he was still a young man with a future. Whatever the event or thought, it generally came about because of Noin. She would crack a joke at just the right moment or peek out at him from behind her hair, smirking at some secret they shared and for a brief instant, they were just Zechs and Noin. Friends, not uptight, honor-bound knights of OZ.

Refueled by his friend's presence, Zechs began to play a happier tune, an old folk song he and Noin learned in their travels. Noin grinned happily then began to sing. It had been a very long time, Zechs realized, since he accompanied Noin, or even heard her sing for that matter. He was pleased to hear that her voice was as lovely and light as ever. It was a welcome change from the harsh commands and shouted replies they exchanged during the heat of battle. They had so little time together anymore and when they were together, it was usually tainted by the formalities of rank and duty. The song concluded and Zechs turned to the young woman sitting by his side. Behind her, a vast picture window allowed full view of the stars. Her eyes picked up the same deep violet hue of the midnight sky, or, Zechs mused, did the sky take its color from her eyes? 

Noin smiled and looked down in her charmingly shy way. Tilting her head forward sent her thick dark hair tumbling forward to cover one of her eyes. Deprived of the lovely view, Zechs reached forward to tilt the young woman's head back up to meet his gaze. How long had it been, he wondered, since they sat like this? So close, alone. No pressing matters tearing one or both away. Probably not since they graduated from Lake Victoria Academy. The thought of their old school combined with the glint of bright moonlight illuminating his friend's face reminded him of another such evening a couple of years back and a few stolen moments under the stars. Zechs reached up slowly and pushed Noin's hair from her face, once again affording him a full view of her incredibly deep eyes.

"Bonne nuit."

Zechs and Noin both started, turning to see the source of  the unexpected greeting. Upon seeing the lady of the house, Madame Dupuis, standing in the doorway of the conservatory, Zechs stood and Noin spoke up.

"Forgive us, Madame. We didn't mean to disturb you."

The elderly woman waved away Noin's apology as she approached. "Think nothing of it, ma chere. I was captivated by your duet. You are both quite accomplished. I am pleased to hear that _ancien_ piano can still sing so sweetly. And you, jeunne fille, put me in mind of an opera diva I once heard in Paris."

"Still. This is your home," Zechs interjected. "We should not have presumed to wander about without asking." 

Zechs stepped forward as he spoke and pulled a comfortable chair out for Madame Dupuis. She was the last member of a once great family and had accepted the Special arrival with grace and even a little wit. As long as _les __enfants_, as she liked to call the young officers, treated her staff with respect, she would not complain. Over the several weeks that Zechs and Noin had been staying at the grand mansion, Madame had taken it upon herself to befriend the two young people. 

"I insist you do not trouble yourselves. I have lived through many wars and many different régimes." She made herself comfortable and patted the young count's arm in appreciation. "But I must admit, I was not expecting such _polite_ invaders."

"We regret the inconvenience our presence has caused, Madame Dupuis. Hopefully it will not be much longer."

"You are very kind, Monsieur Merquise, but I have actually enjoyed having young people filling the house once more. The chateau has been too silent, too long."

"In that case, Madame, might we prevail upon you for a small favor?" Noin stepped forward and caught Zechs eye, raising her eyebrows in silent question. Understanding this as a suggestion that they ask about hosting the ball, Zechs took up her train of thought.

"Yes, Madame, we would ask if you might allow us use of your ball room for a night?"

"The ball room?" The old woman's eyes lit up with something akin to childish glee. "You wish to give a ball?"

"With your permission, of course."

"Oh, merveilleux! Tres, tres merveilleux!" Madame Dupuis clapped in delight. "Oh, it has been far too long since that hall has been used…and I know the perfect chef! Of course the symphony will allow me the use of their first chair strings for the evening…."

As Madame Dupuis made her plans for the grandest ball of the season, Zechs leaned towards Noin and whispered, "Guess I'm off the hook for the spray cheese."

"Darn. I was looking forward to a rousing rendition of 'Lady of Spain' for us to dance to."

"Life is full of these little disappointments, milady."

Noin's response was a quick elbow to her friend's ribs.

===================================

Duke Treize Kushrenada was about to pour himself a night cap when his brother burst into the room. 

"I want it _now_, Treize! Where the hell is it?"

"Good Evening, brother. This is a surprise. I thought you were in…"

The rest of Treize's calm statement was interrupted as Johnny grabbed the front of his coat.

"No games! I want to know what you did with it!"

Treize calmly gazed into his agitated brother's bloodshot eyes. If he ever needed proof that hiding the Epyon was the proper course of action, here it was. His normally relaxed younger brother was threatening him, screaming in a maddened rage. The suit was Treize's best secret weapon and one he had no qualms in using, but the only one who seemed to be able to survive the machine was Johnny. Every other test pilot had suffered brain damage or succumbed to a heart attack. Johnny was always left in an irrationally violent state after piloting Epyon, but he survived. If he went mad, there would be no one left to pilot the suit. It wasn't an easy decision, but Treize decided the suit was best used sparingly.

"Let go, lieutenant colonel." Treize spoke coolly, emphasizing his brother's rank. 

"I'm not leaving here without that suit!"

"Then, it would seem, you are not leaving.  
            With a growl, Johnny swung wildly. Treize easily ducked and gave the young man a shove to disengage himself. The missed punch only served to infuriate Johnny more and he charged, knocking them both off their feet. He pulled away enough to attempt another punch, but the calmer Treize acted first, landing a sharp blow to his brother's nose. The younger man toppled backwards and lay on the floor panting. Treize scrambled to his feet and stood looking down at his brother, his friend, the one person he held in closest confidence. Johnny's anger seemed to evaporate as quickly as it started. He simply lay there pinching his bloodied nose closed. 

Certain now that the altercation was at an end, Treize straightened his uniform. It was then that he noticed a smear of blood staining the white lapel of his formal coat. He quickly removed the soiled garment, dropping it on a chair as he walked to the bathroom for a washcloth to offer Johnny. He splashed some cool water on his own face, reminding himself that Johnny was still suffering from the effects of piloting Epyon. He grabbed a cloth and wet it before returning to his office. As he entered, he saw Johnny move the jacket so that he might sit, just as a small item fluttered from the inner pocket. Treize stepped forward quickly, hoping to retrieve the  photograph before it was noticed, but he was not fast enough. Johnny picked up the photo and looked at the image with wide eyes. He turned the small snapshot over, obviously looking for a name, but found none.

"Treize?"

The duke simply handed the wash cloth to the young man and walked over to the bar. He poured two drinks in silence and walked back to join his brother. Johnny took a big gulp, his face barely registering the burn of alcohol as it traveled the length of his throat. Treize took the photo and sat down in a chair opposite. He watched his brother's expression change from shock, to confusion, and finally to recognition. Nodding, Johnny supplied the answer to his own unspoken question. 

"That nurse on X-18999."

"Leia Barton."

"And the baby?"

"Mariemaia." 

Johnny remained silent for several moments, swiping at the blood on his face as he considered this new knowledge. "You've kept a family in space all of this time and you didn't tell me?"

"No. I have had no contact with Leia since I left the colony."

"You mean…how long have you known about the baby?"

"About a year."

"You've never even seen her?"

"No."

"You bastard."

Treize looked up from the crystal goblet in his hand and eyed his brother. He offered no protest, no justifications for his behavior. There was no need. Johnny knew. Every choice Treize made since he was twelve, every cold calculation and heartless order, it was all for one reason. Peace. Johnny was angry now, but Treize knew that his younger brother would understand in the end. They sought the same conclusion to this grotesque play, but by different means. Johnny's reaction now lay in the deeply buried wounds he had suffered in his own childhood. The younger son of their lecherous father, Edmond Kushrenada, was never openly acknowledged by any of them, not even Treize. It was a fate Johnny understood all too well and had no wish to see his niece suffer. That was the cause of his anger now. 

"You are right, brother. I am both a bastard and a coward." Treize drained the rest of his drink to fortify himself before continuing. "But we both know I'm doing the right thing. I can not afford to have an exploitable weakness now. The world…"

"Screw the world, Treize. To hell with your grand plans and noble causes. We're talking about _your child_."

"Yes…my child," Treize's voice became soft, almost a whisper, and thick with regret. "My beautiful daughter…would you wish this life on her? To be the daughter of His Excellency. Constantly under the watchful eyes of the world, of my adoring fans as well as my hated enemies…all waiting for one moment of hesitation on my part, the one instant when my guard is down…" 

Treize paused unwilling to finish the thought. If anything happened to Mariemaia, especially because of him, Treize could not even imagine what he would do. It was the one thing--the only thing—he truly feared. Those feelings were the precise reason he avoided forming deep bonds with anyone. Loving left one vulnerable to attack. He had to be willing to give up everything and everyone to his cause. He was even willing to give up his own brother, his best friend, if it meant building a better future. Ultimately, it took only that one tiny, innocent life to wreak havoc in his careful plans. Treize drew in a deep, slow breath, recapturing his calm demeanor and willing away the fear. 

"Or would you prefer to see her become another hothouse flower put up for bid on the marriage block? Leia will care for her and Mariemaia will have a life of hope and honesty. She will determine her own destiny, not have it laid out for her by old men in the moth-eaten regalia of a time long dead." 

"You could leave all of this, Treize. You could still go to Leia, there's still time. It's easy to disappear in space, I could help you. We could stage something, take you out of the public's eye. After a while they'll forget you." Johnny paused and offered a weak grin, "Given enough time, the public can forget even the great and powerful Treize."

"What of Romefellar and our dear old uncle?"

"What about them?" Johnny set his glass down on the table rather forcefully, an angry scowl returning to his fine features. "I'll run interference. I can handle the old man and his senile, pasty-faced puppets."

"You would, wouldn't you…" Treize murmured, mostly to himself. It was a statement, not a question. "Despite what it would mean for your career."

"To hell with careers. Our family comes first, Treize, it has to. I want peace as much as you do. I want to send those Alliance dogs back to hell where they belong and I'm willing to sacrifice almost anything to see that happen, but what I am _not_ willing to sacrifice, big brother, is _you_ or that little girl you helped create. If our family is lost, then what is the point of any of this? Why fight for a new era if there is no one left to share it? We're _it_, do you realize that? You, me, Mariemaia…we're all that's left of the Kushrenada family."

"I am aware of that." Treize looked into his empty glass, unwilling to meet his brother's disapproving glare, "Which is why I want to protect our legacy."

"So you mean you'll do it? You'll leave…"

"No, I mean I want _you_ to leave. I want _you_ to go to Mariemaia and raise her for me."

"Treize…"

"Please, Johnny. I don't see any other way. I can't…"

"You _won't_."

"Very well, _won't_, leave my responsibilities here but Mariemaia will need someone to protect her…to tell her about her heritage, when the time comes."

"Damn it, Treize. You should be the one…"

"Do this one last thing for me."

"Is that an order, Excellency?"

"No…it is a plea from your brother."

Johnny stood, followed by Treize. They eyed each other for quite a long time in silence, each trying to come to terms with what was happening, with the changes they now faced. Whatever Johnny said in the next few minutes, their relationship was forever changed. They would always be brothers, always offer the unconditional bond a family should provide, but no longer would there be an easy going camaraderie between the two. That had been damaged beyond repair. Perhaps one day, if they survived the coming apocalypse, they could build a new friendship, but not now. The best they could hope for at that moment was to let go of the anger and disappointments of the past and forgive each other's mistakes.

"Of course I'll go, Treize." 

Johnny held out his hand, smiling the crooked grin he was known for. Relieved Treize set down his goblet and grasped his brother's hand. "I'll arrange for you to go on leave tomorrow while I work out a transfer to an administrative position on MOII. My personal shuttle will be on standby…you can leave tonight."

"Sure. I'll go grab my stuff." Johnny started for the door, but Treize called him back. 

"Wait. I have one other item for you to take." His Excellency unlocked a large drawer in his ornate desk. He hesitated a moment before pulling out a small stuffed teddy bear dressed in a pink tutu and ribbons. Shaking his head, Treize handed it over. "I bought this several months ago…I don't know what I was thinking…"

Johnny smiled affectionately at his brother and took the toy. "I'll make sure she gets it, Treize."

======================

            To Noin's secret delight, the ball she, Zechs and Madame Dupuis planned was an complete success. Well, perhaps not a complete success. There was the game of hide and seek she was playing with the aging Duke Dermail. So far, Noin had effectively avoided the old man. It had been years since he saw her and she had changed quite a bit, but Noin was unwilling to risk being recognized, so she avoided the old man. His infamous snobbery worked to her favor as Dermail ensconced himself among the "true" nobles of Romefellar and paid no mind to upstart commoners such as Noin. Whether on purpose or simply neglect, His Excellency had not demanded that she attempt to mingle with the older members of Romefellar, simply that she pay cursory respects to a select few young noblemen who had inquired after her specifically. Basically, Treize asked her to do some power flirting with a few young counts who were rising through the ranks of the political wing of OZ. 

            The other small mar to the otherwise charming fete concerned Zechs. Many of the older members of the aristocracy were in attendance, most of whom knew King Stefan Peacecraft personally. Given his now uncanny resemblance to his late father, Treize thought it wise for Zechs not to show his face…literally. The name Zechs Merquise was banded about more often now that he was a veteran of mobile suit battle. His record, family connections, and title all combined to form a romantic image for the tradition-bound nobles of Romefellar. He was a rising star among them, but in order for that star to continue to rise, Zechs must keep his true identity a secret. Which meant hiding his face around those who might remember the Peacecrafts. 

            Treize went so far as to have a custom helmet designed just for Zechs. It was a striking piece, to be sure, glittering in the light and adding a hint of mystery to the already intriguing young man. It was a beautifully crafted work of art. Noin hated that mask, especially since Zechs didn't. In fact, he seemed to be quite comfortable with it now. She knew her friend took refuge behind that mask in the same way he hid behind his sunglasses. It was one more defense, another wall, another method of punishing himself. Noin wasn't about to let that go unchecked.

            Noin disengaged herself from two overly eager young nobles and made her way across the ballroom to the massive windows overlooking the garden. Zechs was there, as he had been periodically throughout the evening. As she walked up behind him Noin realized what it was exactly the mask resembled.

            "Well, nice to see the Eagle has finally landed."

            Noin smiled, obviously expecting Zechs to respond with some scathing remark of his own, but he simply turned from her back to the window. A knot quickly formed in the pit of her stomach. Another thing she hated about that mask was that it prevented her from reading her friend's mood. With practice, Noin would certainly be able to adjust, but now, she was left feeling awkward.

            "I'm sorry, Zechs. It was just my awful attempt to lighten your mood."

            "I know, Noin…I'm sorry, too. I _should_ lighten up." 

            "Well, you know we got this kick-ass party going on back here…" Zechs turned to her, a smile playing at his mouth. Noin inclined her head in the direction of a knot of elderly women. "those chicks look like they could party all night."

            "Chicks?"

            "I heard Captain Damon say that about some of the nuns once."

            "What did Marguerite do?"

            "Chased him with a ruler."

            They laughed lightly at the mental image of petite Marguerite chasing Damon. They talked for quite some time, ignoring their guests in favor of a few moments of mirth. They stood with their backs to the crowd, looking out at the evening sky. At some point, Noin wrapped her hand around Zechs' elbow. The young man bent his arm, gently and purposely trapping his companion's hand and lightly rested his own over the young woman's fingers. Neither made any indication that they noticed the actions of the other. 

            Across the room, someone did notice. His Excellency, Duke Treize Kushrenada, scouting for his young protégé, spied the two huddled together in an intimate conversation. If it had been any other two officers under his command, His Excellency would have been inclined to politely ignore the scene. But these weren't just any officers, they were his best. With Johnny in space, most likely permanently, leadership of the best mobile suit division in the Specials would naturally fall to Zechs. The last thing Treize wanted was to have another member of OZ distracted by a claim upon his heart. He had been lax with those two in the past year. A mistake he had no intention of allowing to continue.

            Watching Zechs and Lucretzia together now tugged at the man's heart, but Treize refused to give in to sentiment any longer. He had sacrificed his own family to his cause, he had no compunction about requiring the same from his two best pilots. It would hurt them both at first, but in the long run, Treize was convinced it was a kindness. Severing their connection now would be much easier than finding themselves in his predicament later. Treize excused himself from the conversation he had been ignoring and made his way to a communications relay in the next room. He sat down and prepared new orders for both Lieutenant Zechs Merquise and Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin. 

            First, he made arrangements for Noin to take up a temporary assignment in Rome. The diplomatic corps had been after him for months to allow a representative to recruit Lucretzia to their ranks. Her uncanny ability with languages along with her high academic achievements made her a perfect candidate for the political wing of Romefellar. It was an idea he had resisted, unwilling to give up one of his best mobile suit pilots, but now it seemed the perfect assignment. 

            Zechs' skill was far too great to give up, however, and Treize decided to have the young man test several new models of mobile suit ready for production. It would only be for a few weeks, but it was a start. By the time Treize was finished, the two would only be indifferent acquaintances. He sent the last order and shut off the comlink. Tomorrow morning, both Zechs and Noin would wake up to new orders. Treize returned to the lavish ball with an unencumbered mind. 

======================

            Johnny took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door in front of him. He had been standing outside in the hall way for at least thirty minutes, trying to muster enough courage to knock. He spent part of that time practicing what he would say, the rest fidgeting with his clothes and the stuffed teddy bear he held. He was not a nervous person by nature, but the prospect of meeting his young niece was daunting. Just as he was about to knock the door suddenly swung open. A lovely young woman stood in framed in the doorway, a bag of garbage in one hand and a startled look on her face.

 "Treize?" Leia breathed in shock. 

"No, Miss Barton, I'm…"

"You're Johnny, of course," Leia put a hand to her forehead, as she recovered from the shock. "Of course. Treize's brother….forgive me. Do come in."

Leia Barton stepped aside as Johnny walked in. As she recovered, the young woman noticed the trash bag still in her hand and hastily set it just outside the door. 

"May I offer you a drink?" Her words were gracious but did nothing to hide the stunned tone of Leia's voice.

"No thank you, Miss Barton…"

"Please, call me Leia."

"Leia." Johnny smiled and nodded. "I think you know why I am here."

"To meet a certain young lady, I assume."

"If you don't object.

Leia studied him for a moment. Johnny stood still, just as he had when he was in grade school. He felt as though he were being inspected. It was natural. She had never met him, had barely known Treize, it was right that she should be suspicious. Johnny, however, was determined to see his niece.

"I know my visit is unexpected, but my intentions are the very best. I only wish to be of service to you and my niece." Johnny gulped at the conclusion of his statement, hoping he had not presumed too much by calling Mariemaia his niece. 

"Yes. I can see that." Leia smiled and a relieved Johnny took note of how the young woman's beauty increased with the softer expression. "Wait here, Johnny."

She left the room and returned a few moments later, taking strange, small steps. Leia came to a stop at the far end of the room and stood still, glancing behind herself a few times. Johnny held his breath as he spied a small red head peek out from behind Leia's knee. He only saw one eye, but that was enough. The child was indeed Treize's daughter, there was no mistaking that Kushrenada shade of blue. He sank to his knees and smiled. Upon realizing she had been noticed, the toddler ducked back behind her mother, but only for a few moments. Evidently her curiosity superceded her fear and she looked again, this time boldly stepping from her hiding place and peering at the new big person. Johnny smiled warmly and held out the stuffed toy to the girl. After considering the man for a few minutes, the little girl finally walked forward and took the offering, examining it critically before hugging it to her small body. 

The child turned her attention back to the person who brought the gift and stared. They regarded one another for several moments in complete silence before Johnny hesitantly touched the baby's soft hair. Mariemaia mimicked the action, lightly patting the man's dark blonde curls then running her chubby hand along his cheek. 

Johnny finally felt compelled to speak, to explain himself to the curious child. "Hello Mariemaia. I, uh… I'm…"

"Mummy's fend."

"Yes. I hope I can be your friend too."

"Okee," She replied simply holding her arms out. "Fie now!" 

Johnny swooped Mariemaia into the air and eagerly obliged, swinging the girl around and making the appropriate airplane noises. Mariemaia squealed in delight, laughing in that joyously trusting way only babies can. By the end of the evening, Mariemaia was demanding that Uncle Johnny be the one to put her to bed and tell her a story, a request her uncle readily granted. He told her of faraway lands, of pauper's and princes, of a little red-haired princess who would one day be a great queen. 

Over the next few weeks, Johnny visited the Barton apartment everyday, each time bringing some new surprise for Mariemaia. After the first few visits, these surprises expanded to include Leia. Nothing extravagant. A bundle of flowers picked on the way to her apartment, a small handkerchief to replace one lost on an outing to the park, a small charm in the shape of a stethoscope. Trivial things that slowly endeared Johnny to the young nurse. In the evenings, after Mariemaia's bedtime, the two often found themselves lingering over a last cup of coffee, talking.

That evening he said goodnight shortly before dawn and began a meandering walk back to his hotel. Johnny's long separation from Epyon began to show in the young man's behavior. Gone was the obsessive need to fight, the angry, jealous rages. He was himself again. Just Uncle Johnny. He enjoyed his new life with his new family. Johnny stopped an looked up at the sky, noting lights of another portion of the city glittering through the artificial clouds. Family. Damn that word felt good.

======================

            As the Specials transport landed smoothly on the massive private airstrip in Rome, Lucretzia Noin mused at the difference in accommodations from the last time she visited. Rather than the stark troop transport, she now occupied a plush seat in a private jet chartered specifically for high ranking officers. The plane came to a stop at the hanger and the few passengers began to disembark. Noin hung back, remaining seated for a few moments. She had not been back to Rome since being drafted by the Alliance five years ago. Now, here she was, a respected officer and seasoned pilot, on her way to attend diplomatic training. The assignment had been a surprise but not entirely unwelcome. She was looking forward to a break from the continuing hostilities in Northern Europe. Though she did wish Zechs could have shared in the little vacation instead of taking part in new suit tests. 

            Noin took a deep breath and finally exited the plane, walking slowly across the tarmac with her bags. The trip was bittersweet. She was glad to be in Rome again, especially under better circumstances, but she still had not decided whether to make it a real visit. Should she see Sister Marguerite? There was little chance that her presence would bring Sister grief at this point. She was an Specials officer, member of Romefellar, whatever reason the Alliance had for hunting her was long forgotten and now irrelevant. Wasn't it? Noin had trouble shaking the image of that soldier striking Marguerite. She didn't want to risk having anyone hurt on her account.

            "Lucretzia!"

            Noin came to an abrupt halt and looked around until she spotted two arms waving wildly. She quickened her pace and made her way through the crowd to find Paolo waiting for her. She had told him in her last letter that she would be in Rome for a few weeks and hoped they could meet. Paolo was in university there, almost graduated, and she looked forward to seeing her old friend. As Noin approached, Paolo took her bags and set them aside then proceeded to wrap the young woman in a fond embrace. Unaccustomed to such greetings, Noin stiffened a bit and hesitated before returning the gesture, smiling softly as she relaxed into the hug. 

            "Welcome home, Lucretzia."

            "It's good to be home, Paolo."

            "Come," he said pulling away and grabbing Noin's bags, "my car is just outside."

            They stepped out of the airport and walked toward a sleek red sports car, Italian of course, and Noin commented, "That thing big enough for the both of us or am I going to have to ride on the roof?"

            "You don't think that would be fun?"

            "Yes, but it would muss my hair."

            Paolo reached forward as he opened the door for Noin and ruffled her hair, "Your hair is easy to muss."

            Safely seated, the two started off through the congested streets of the beautiful city, zooming precariously through traffic. Noin found herself gripping the door handle on more than one occasion. She had forgotten what Rome's streets were like. Street, sidewalk, any flat surface was game. She preferred the safety of her mobile suit. After a few minutes of championship driving, Noin noticed they were not heading in the right direction.

            "Paolo, the hotel is the other way."

            "Yes, but you won't be staying there."

            "Excuse me?"

            Paolo smiled at the annoyed tone in his companion's voice. "I canceled your reservation. I found a place I think you will like much better."

            "How very kind of you." Friend or not, Noin didn't like the presumption, but she was willing to go along for the time being.

            "Just give it a chance. If you do not like it, I will take you back to the hotel…ah, here we are."

            Noin turned to look out of her window and gasped softly. They were parked in front of Marguerite's convent. Noin stared in shocked silence, taking in every crumbling brick, every ivy covered wall, every dilapidated iron gate. It had not changed one bit. The grass was a little too high, the windows a bit dirty, but just the same.

            "If you are not ready, I can take you back to the hotel."

            Noin turned back to her friend, suddenly concerned. "You didn't…"

            "No, I didn't tell Sister Marguerite you were here. I've been checking on her like you asked, but she doesn't know we are acquainted…yet."

            Noin returned her gaze to the antiquated building before her and tried to make sense of what she was feeling. At length, the young woman opened her door and got out, slowly ascending the row of narrow stairs that led to the front entrance. She stood staring at the heavy wooden door, worn by time and the touch of many hands, trying to decide if she was ready. Paolo came to stand next to her, smiling as he took her hand in his. Noin looked up at her generous friend and simply nodded. Paolo knocked. It seemed like forever before the door creaked open to reveal an aging woman in nun's garb.

            "Oh hello, Paolo, how are…." A small gasp interrupted Marguerite's greeting as she recognized the young woman. "Luie?" Marguerite immediately flung her arms open wide and rushed towards the young woman. "Oh, my dear little wild child." Marguerite began sobbing in joy, stroking the young woman's hair as she had when Noin was a small child, soothing and rocking. "I'm so glad to have you home."

            Noin tightly embraced the woman she thought of as a mother, five years of separation and sadness suddenly bursting forth in a flood of tears. She hated to cry, rarely allowed it, but this was Sister. This was her family. This was her home.

            "I'm home, Sister," she wept happily, "I'm home."

=======================

"I'll take care of the rest! Go after the leader!"

"Roger!" 

Zechs turned his new Aries model mobile suit and flew after the escaping terrorist. A small faction of rebels had attempted to infiltrate the testing ground and steal some of the experimental suit designs. Within a few hours, the incident escalated into a full assault. Treize himself led the mobile suits into battle with Zechs in the forefront. The lieutenant sped after the ringleader, expertly avoiding the air-to-ground missiles the other man's comrades fired and followed the rebel into a residential area of the city. The enemy suit disappeared from the radar for a few moments, but a bright flash of light and loud boom gave away the man's whereabouts. He had crashed into a nearby park. 

Zechs set his suit down, aiming carefully at the man attempting to escape. Suddenly, the man stopped and whirled around to face Zechs' Aries. He had his pistol trained on a young girl in front of him. Damn. The suit's weapons were far to destructive to take out the terrorist without hurting the child, so Zechs quickly climbed out and dropped to the ground. The terrorist barked warnings as Zechs approached and pushed the pistol menacingly into the girl's neck. Zechs stopped, a swirl of horrid memories twisting his brain. In an instant he was back on a balcony twelve years prior, watching a soldier threaten his mother in the same manner. He had been helpless to stop that soldier. He was not helpless any longer.

"You are making a huge mistake." Zechs' voice was calm and low despite the peak in his emotions produced by the parallel with his mother's death. The girl stood with her hands over her face, shivering in fright.  Zechs drew his weapon and took careful aim. "Let the child go."

"Stay back or I'll…"

A shot rang out, echoing through the otherwise quiet park. The terrorist yelped in pain as the bullet ripped through his hand, blowing the weapon from his grasp. He ran away, leaving a trail of blood behind. Zechs did not bother to pursue, but instead holstered his weapon. He could find the man easily enough. He was more concerned with the little girl. 

"You're safe, now. He's gone."

The girl slowly moved her hands from her face and opened her eyes. It was all Zechs could do to stifle a gasp. The honey-blond hair, deep blue eyes, perfect complexion. He stood staring a younger version of his mother's face. Baby Rena, though not a baby any longer. The lieutenant removed his dark glasses and really looked his sister. Relena had grown so tall and beautiful, just as he knew she would. He searched her eyes, looking for any spark of recognition, but found none. She didn't remember. That was good. That was what he wanted…wasn't it? He realized that the silence had drug on too long and that staring at her might make the girl uncomfortable, so he inquired after her well being. 

"Are you all right, princess?" 

It didn't dawn on Zechs that he used Relena's title until she cocked her head and looked at him strangely.

"Princess? So you're…a knight in shining armor?" Relena supplied with a pretty smile.

Zechs smiled softly, happy to know she still enjoyed playing pretend. "I'm the prince who fell from the clouds." 

This answer seemed to amuse the girl a great deal and she beamed up at her rescuer. Zechs wanted to say more, to ask her about her life, if she was happy, if she was loved, but the rest of her household finally caught up and rushed to her side. A few short explanations and the group was reassured that Relena was well. The adults thanked Zechs profusely, offering to have him come back to the house for a meal. He refused and bowed slightly just as John Dorlian rushed up and embraced Relena.

"Relena! Are you all right, my dear? I was frantic."

"I'm fine, father. This boy saved me," she began turning back to Zechs and smiling. "He fell from the clouds and rescued me."

"Did he? Well, now, I must thank…" upon looking into the face of his daughter's savior, Dorlian stumbled over his sentence. For one brief agonizing moment, Zechs held the man's gaze and saw a fleeting recognition blaze across the man's face. Quickly putting on his sunglasses, Zechs turned to leave.

"No need for thanks, sir. I was happy to assist the young lady. I must return to my duties now." 

Zechs walked back to his mobile suit as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Grabbing the cable, he hoisted himself back up into the cockpit and  allowed himself one last look. Relena's entourage fussed and fretted over her for several moments before Mr. Dorlian led the group back to the house. The lieutenant watched his sister leave with her surrogate father and her new friends. She was safe and happy. There were people to love her and for her to love in return. Zechs secured the hatch and started the suit, closing his eyes briefly as he regained control of his emotions. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought of what a happy life Relena was enjoying, one she would not have known if she stayed with him.  Zechs put a hand to his chest, rubbing the small bump in his shirt indicating his mother's locket.

"I kept my promise, Mama."

=======================

"You do know that I had the absolute worst crush on you, don't you?"

"Me?"

Noin laughed at Paolo's suggestion as they strolled leisurely around a large fountain. They had just shared another of many fun evenings together since Noin had returned to Rome. She was staying at the convent, with Sister Marguerite, attending diplomatic training sessions during the day and spending her evenings with Paolo. It had been a wonderful few weeks, better than any she could remember since being forced into the military. There was very little evidence of her military ties in her present circumstances. She had not even worn her uniform since her arrival. All in all, it was a lovely break from combat.

"Don't sound so shocked. All the boys had a crush on you. Why do you think Mil was always getting into fights?"

"I always assumed it was because the other boys teased him when Ingrid and I called him Milli."

"Well, perhaps sometimes, but most of the time he fancied himself protecting your honor."

Noin smiled, shaking her head. "That sounds like him."

Paolo escorted her to a dry spot on the fountain's edge and they sat. "Mil was always a little overprotective, but I supposed that was because he had lost so much and was afraid of losing more…as were you."

Noin looked up, studying Paolo's fine features as he lightly draped an arm about her shoulders. She looked into his deep black eyes and, as she always seemed to do, compared them to a set of ice blue eyes, now hidden from the world. Once again she was struck by the stark difference in the two young men. Zechs and Paolo were as different as daylight and darkness, both walking contradictions. One of rich, dark complexion yet possessing the lightest spirit Noin had ever known. The other pale as the distant star light, yet harboring dark passions and consuming sorrow. One offering his friendship as a gift while the other always tried to protect her from the burden of  his companionship. Zechs always pushing her away, Paolo always standing with arms wide open. 

Paolo's arm tightened around her shoulders slightly as he leaned forward. He brushed the tips of his fingers across her forehead, moving her thick hair to the side as he gently kissed her forehead. Noin allowed herself to lean into the embrace, enjoying the warmth of  another human being. It was a simple gesture, but powerful in its effect. Such small comfort was a rarity in her ordered existence and she reveled in the feeling of closeness. A quiet evening, a handsome young man's laughter, it was all so nice. Paolo leaned forward a bit more and gave her a gentle peck on the lips before pressing forward for a more lingering kiss. He didn't hesitate, didn't ask, simply took Noin's body language as confirmation that he was correct to do so. Noin tentatively returned the kiss, reaching up to finger a lock of wavy black hair. She allowed the kiss to become bolder but pulled away before Paolo had a chance to envelop her in his arms completely. 

"I am sorry, Lucretzia, I thought you wanted me to kiss you."

"I did." Noin responded hastily as she gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. "It was nice." Paolo nodded, but still looked a little uncertain. She couldn't allow Paolo to believe he did something wrong. She did want it to happen. Actually, Noin wasn't quite certain why she made it stop. "It's late, that's all. I have to report to the base at seven in the morning."

"Of course. May I escort you home then?" 

Paolo stood and offered his hand, smiling. Always smiling. Noin took his hand and they began to leisurely make their way back to the convent. 

======================

            Another long day at Romefellar. Treize entered his study and sat wearily near the raging fire his servants kept continually burning in the grand fireplace. The weather was perhaps not quite cold enough to warrant such a blaze, but the relaxing effect of the dancing orange and blue flames was worth a little too much warmth to the man. Particularly now. It seemed his life had grown so cold of late. Treize spent most of his days arguing for more funding to develop new mobile suit technology instead among his men on the battlefield as he should. Even Johnny was not here to throw out an off color and perfectly timed joke designed specifically to make His Excellency smile. Zechs was at the new testing facility, Une was on a mission. No one was here.

            Treize reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn photograph. He finally succeeded in ridding himself of every last chain on his heart. Indeed, he felt he no longer had a heart at all. It was a sacrifice worse than death, surrendering his soul, but he felt it correct. The world would thank him one day. One day, after Alliance domination had been replaced with the gracious benevolence of OZ, the world would hail him as a hero, their savior. The Kushrenada name would no longer labor under the stigma of Edmond's licentiousness,  his grandfather's addictions, his ancestor's treachery. No. Once more the Kushrenada name would be held in esteem. Kushrenada would be a name worth bearing once again. Treize leaned forward and tossed the photograph into the fire, watching the slick paper curl and blacken. Until then, Treize would have to call upon every Machiavellian instinct he inherited from his predecessors. He would have to give up his heart.

It was a small price to pay for his daughter's future.

======================

"She was right there. Three feet away from me and….and…"

"And she didn't recognize you."

"No."

Lucretzia Noin sat at the small desk in her quarters, staring into the comlink screen at the flickering image of  Zechs Merquise. Despite the bad connection and three thousand mile separation, the young woman could tell her best friend was having a great deal of trouble coping with the unexpected reunion with his beloved little sister, Relena. It was two a.m. when Zechs called but Noin didn't mind. He needed to talk. She wanted to listen. Two hours later they still sat at their comlinks, hunched forward as though they were sitting across the table from one another.

"I'm sorry she didn't know you."

"I'm _not_ sorry. She has a good life now. She doesn't seem to remember anything about Cinq or how Mama…" 

A long pause followed which was finally broken by Noin. "You're right. Maybe it is for the best just now. One day you can…"

"It's for the best, period. She has friends, a real life…a father. I'm not going to barge in one day and ruin that."

"But Rena is _your sister."_

"And I promised my mother I would _protect_ her. I'm a soldier now. My life is dangerous…it's about battle, service…revenge. I can't expose her to that."

Noin did not respond. She knew there was no sense in arguing with him when he was in his typical, I've-disgraced-my-family-and-I'm-not-fit-to-live mood. One day, when it was possible to find little Rena again, Noin could talk to Zechs and convince him of his error. Right now, all she could do was listen. She listened as he told her about how much the girl had grown, how pretty she was becoming, how self-possessed. He spoke with the familiar pride of a big brother, something Noin hadn't seen in her friend for a long time. If nothing else, Zechs now knew for certain that the person he held most dear was well and safe. Relena had a good life and that was enough. Perhaps, one day, Zechs could be convinced that he had a right to share in that happiness. 

They spoke for another hour before Zechs finally signed off. He had been unsure when he first called and almost hung up twice. It had taken a half hour of gentle prodding on her part to get her friend to tell her why he felt the need to call at such an hour. He was always like that. He never wanted to burden her with what he saw as his shortcomings, but in the end, Zechs always trusted her with what he felt. By the time they ended the conversation hours later, Zechs was feeling better about the incident with Relena and Noin was feeling better as well. 

Her kiss with Paolo had left the young woman a bit confused. All the weeks she spent there, among dear friends, living a somewhat normal life, had raised some doubts in Noin's mind. She felt her commitment to the military slipping in favor of the idea of living with Marguerite, attending college, having a real life. It was possible, a dream within her grasp now that she was legally of age. The military no longer had a claim upon the orphan from the gutters of Rome. She was old enough to choose for herself, which was all she ever wanted. Her conversation with Zechs help put some of those doubts into perspective. As attractive as the idea was, Noin no longer felt capable of leading a normal life. Deep down she knew the decision was already made. When her assignment was completed, she would leave Rome. She would return to OZ, to her duty and her place among the future liberators of the world. She and Zechs still had a dragon to slay.

Noin gazed through the window as she pondered her life and realized that the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon. She stayed as she was for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet glow of the pre-dawn sky. The young woman smiled softly to herself as the sky slowly lightened from a deep grey-violet to the pink glow that signaled the sun's approach. The clouds streaked across the impossible colors like stokes of paint across an artist's canvas, blending and connecting the most improbable combinations of gold, purple and blue. All of it dancing slowly before her as though God intended the display just for her. She loved mornings. The beginning of a fresh, clean day full of possibility.

=========================

 Well, this was it. Johnny straightened his jacket for the thousandth time and took a deep breath. In the time he spent on X-18999, he had become quite attached to the Barton ladies. At first, it was merely out of duty to Treize, to honor his brother's request, but over time Johnny had come to genuinely love little Mariemaia as though she were his own. He thought himself infinitely well suited for the duties of an uncle. He knew all the best stories and silliest songs. When Mariemaia sat on his shoulders, she was much taller than any of the other children at the park. He knew how to help her get rid of those pesky green beans her mother insisted she ate without tipping off Leia. He enjoyed his role as an uncle immensely, but found he wanted more. He wanted to be a real father for Mariemaia. 

Deciding this also brought up another issue, one that Johnny had shied from for some time. He cared for Leia as well. Not just as his niece's mom, but for who she was. Leia, he discovered was quite remarkable. Upon finding out she was pregnant, Leia immediately broke off her engagement, told her old man where to shove it and left. She set herself up in a modest apartment near the public hospital where she worked and set about building an new, independent life for herself and her daughter. It took a lot of guts to walk away from the Barton family. Johnny knew now why Leia had such an affect on Treize. She was having the same affect on him. After a few days of careful deliberation, Johnny finally made a decision. One that would change four lives forever. 

"Johnny? You going to stand in the hall all day?" Leia's pretty voice floated out from the now open doorway. Simply hearing the sound of her voice quelled some of the apprehension Johnny was suffering and he stepped inside.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon. Mariemaia's with my brother this morning."

"That's all right, Leia…actually, I came here to talk to you."

"All right." 

Leia led the young man to her living room and they sat on the small sofa in silence. Johnny, nervous again, stood and paced for a few moments before seating himself across the room.

"Leia, you know how much I care about you."

"You've been a great friend to me, Johnny."

"Yes, I want to be your friend, I want us to always be friends, but…Leia have you ever considered what might happen if we let this become something more? Would you be willing to consider letting me become part of your family?"

"You are a part of our family…"

"I'm asking you to marry me, Leia."

Leia, obviously stunned, remained quiet for several agonizing moments. "Johnny, I…we barely know each other."

"I'm not suggesting we run off together _tonight_. We can get to know one another during the engagement."

"I won't marry you just to give Mariemaia a father or to satisfy your promise to your brother."

"That's not why I'm asking, Leia. I did come here because Treize asked me to see Mariemaia, but it's more than that now."

"I appreciate what you are trying to do, but you don't have an obligation to me or my daughter…"

"Leia," he interrupted quickly and stood. He paced a moment collecting his thoughts. "I know what it's like to grow up under a stigma, without recognition from the one person who should have been there for me. I don't want that for Mariemaia. As for obligation, she is part of _my_ family, too. She's my niece. I know you and I don't love each other yet and I'm a poor substitute for Treize…"

"You're not a poor anything, Johnny. You are a wonderful, honorable man and if we did do this, you would be _no one's_ substitute."

Johnny covered the distance to Leia in two strides and knelt before her, smiling hopefully. "Is that a yes?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but…I'm willing to _consider_ your offer. But we need to talk about what this means, what we expect here. I don't take marriage lightly. If I did, I would be married to the Governor's aide right now." 

"Of course. I understand completely."

"I don't know if…Johnny, I'm not certain I can be an soldier's wife…"

"I'll quit."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I can find other work. If it's what you want, I'll turn in my resignation today."

"I do…want you to quit, I mean."

Johnny grinned. "Consider it done." He took Leia's hands in his own and looked into her eyes, his expression becoming suddenly serious. "Leia, I don't take marriage lightly either. I've see what can happen when a commitment isn't taken seriously, when vows are ignored. I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't think I could make you happy. I've given my life to the Specials. My duty there is very important to me, but it means _nothing_ compared to you and Mariemaia. All I have ever wanted is a family, a _real_ family. I know I can be a good husband and a good father. I promise you that I'll try as hard as I can. Just give me a chance."

Leia cocked her head, studying his earnest face for a few moments. "How did two men who look so much alike end up so very different?"

"Different mothers." Johnny grinned and pulled Leia to her feet. "Come on. We can talk more over lunch."

He released the young woman's hands and moved his own to her waist, pulling her to him. He smiled down at the startled look on Leia's face and gently kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips. Leia hesitantly entwined her arms around Johnny's neck and returned the kiss. The young man pulled away a few inches, just enough to give Leia another patent Johnny smirk before kissing her again. This time she returned the favor with sincerity. They eventually separated and left the apartment. They made their way to the parking garage and, as they approached Johnny's rental car, the couple passed a boy casually walking in the opposite direction. The kid's head was down, long dark bangs obscuring his face, and his fists were jammed into his pockets. Johnny was feeling more light-hearted at that moment than he ever had before and  found himself having to fight the urge to ruffle the kid's hair.

Johnny held the car door open for Leia, bowing dramatically as she seated herself inside. He then leapt up, sliding over the hood to the driver's side and plopped inside. His antics earned him the reward of a laugh from his companion. As they settled in, fastening seatbelts and adjusting mirrors, Johnny chuckled.

            "Funny."

            "What?" 

            "How that letter led to all of this. I'm sure it's not what you expected, but…"

"What letter?"

            "The letter you wrote to Treize…telling him of Mariemaia."

            "I didn't write a letter. I would never have prevailed upon Treize like that…"

            "You didn't write…" 

Johnny looked blankly at Leia for a moment, puzzled, before the full impact of what she said hit him. Cold realization began to seep into Johnny's mind. The letter was meant to get _Treize_ to the colony. Suddenly the memory of that boy walking away from Leia's car came rushing back into Johnny's head. It was a set up. 

"Out of the car."

            "Wha…?"

_            "Get out! GET OUT OF THE…" Frantic, Johnny attempted to shove Leia out of the vehicle before it was too late. ___

            The explosion blew the car several feet into the air and off to the side. The fireball that resulted ignited the gas tanks of several surrounding cars, the resulting blast breaking windows a mile away. Within moments, the blaring sirens of rescue crews could be heard in their approach. Stunned pedestrians stood their ground, bearing witness to the carnage. The fires burned bright as the fuel was quickly consumed and spent. Ambulances arrived to tend to survivors and retrieve the dead. The remains of two bodies were recovered from the ashes and sent to the medical examiner's office for identification. A few hours later, all that was left on the scene were the charred shells of several cars, a sea of broken glass and the stench of death. 

================================

Treize Kushrenada woke from a sound slumber with a violent start. He sat bolt upright in his plush bed, panting for air as beads of sweat stained his silk pajamas. He rubbed his face, trying to determine what had awakened him. A startling beep from his nightstand answered the question. His Excellency took a deep breath to steady himself before answering the vid phone.

            "Yes." Treize did his best to sound as calm and unconcerned as he ever did, but could feel a tightness in his throat as the screen flickered to life.

            "Sir!" The image of a young Specials lieutenant saluted the duke.

            "What is it, Lieutenant?" 

Treize's voice was beginning to hint at the his increasing annoyance. The young lieutenant hesitated for a extraordinarily long moment before continuing. The young man's posture was rigid, his voice strained. It was obvious that he bore news he would rather not impart. 

"Your, Excellency. I regret to inform you…" 

=================== End Chapter 7 ===================

I have a bet going on which scene will get the most flames: Johnny's death or Noin kissing Paolo.

Thanks to Johnny Rage for once again helping me beat out some details, specifically the part about the car bomb [ducks flying toasters]. I know, I know! I create another character everyone likes, then kill him off again. It was necessary! Really! In the next chapter, Treize will have a bit of a breakdown & Une will be there to take care of him. Some sap, some angst, lots of confused Une. Don't worry, still plenty of Zechs/Noin moments, though not what you might expect …hehehe…uh….put down the pointy sticks….nice readers….no, wait…._where do you people get all of these toasters_?!

_Disclaimer_: [Takes out Lawyer-shaped Voodoo doll, picks up pin] I do not own Gundam Wing [jabs pin in doll's head, cackles at resulting screams in distance]. It belongs to Sunrise, Sotsu, Bandai, & a whole bunch of people with names I can't pronounce [jabs another pin in doll's leg, ignoring pleas for mercy]. Don't sue me.

_Special note from Lady Dante's Christian Ethic: _ She doesn't really have a voodoo doll, just an overactive imagination combined with that pesky free will thingy which is constantly getting her into trouble. [Jumps at the sound of lawyer screams]. Uh…really, she's a nice girl & doesn't dabble in that sort of thing.


	8. Loyalty

AN: Hmm…warnings…angst, confusion, slight ooc-ness, drunkenness, strong women, crazy men, Hamlet-inspired mask scene, caffeine-crazed author, naked Treize (not like _that_ you hentais!), depression, guilt, _both_ Une personalities, sap, hormones, bad political speeches…you know…just another typical day in Dante's world. Still Grows the Lilac 

Book II of  The Lilac Princess 

By Lady Dante

Chapter 8

Loyalty 

"Incoming message for you, ma'am. Line four."

Lady Une acknowledged her underling with characteristic coldness and dismissed the boy with a sharp wave. She was right in the middle of planning her next mission and had no wish to be disturbed. Outwardly, she was to be the delegate at an upcoming Alliance conference. Secretly, she was under orders by Romefellar to eliminate a certain major general who was making noise about the Specials' rise in popularity among the people. She took no particular pleasure in that aspect of the job, but it was necessary and she was pretty damned good at it. Every successful mission completed brought her one step closer to promotion. Every rise in rank lifted her upward towards the proverbial glass ceiling that kept members of her gender out of the highest offices of Romefellar. Une had every intention of shattering that glass ceiling and was well on her way of accomplishing that goal. 

Her position as His Excellency's second, at first merely a stepping stone, proved to be fundamental to Une's goals. The duke had proven himself an extraordinary leader, well deserving of the high regards of his peers. Her own trust was not so easily won, but once given, nearly intractable. Treize Kushrenada had earned her respect and Une's loyalty to the rising star was now cemented. As he rose, so did she. 

The Lady finally condescended to answer the call and activated the comlink. To her surprise it was not a live link, rather an encoded text message awaiting her security clearance. Une quickly input the proper information and waited for the message to decode. It was a plain communication, two sentences long, but the impact was immediate. She cleared the screen, leapt up and barked for her assistants. She quickly ordered one to contact the Alliance conference organizers and inform them she would not be attending. The other was dispatched to ready her shuttle. All necessary arrangements made, Une headed for her quarters to pack. 

Upon arrival, she ordered her two startled maids to gather her things immediately, then quickly sent out an order for all of Treize's officers to return to the Brussels base. She began to gather her papers and other Specials official communiqués, all the while reeling from the news. The message was a simple announcement of the death of a decorated Specials captain as a result of a terrorist attack on a civilian residence on colony X-18999. It held no personal significance for her, but she feared His Excellency's reaction to his brother's death. 

It was an open secret among the aristocracy that the late Duke had another son, but it was never discussed, not even by the bored noblewomen whose only joy arose from gossip. Une did not recall ever actually being told about the connection, but it seemed obvious given the striking resemblance between the two men. A resemblance so remarkable, in fact, that the younger man had been mistaken for the duke on many occasions. Therein lay the Lady's reasons for hastening her return. If it were simply a random act of terrorism, then there was little worry, but there were two other likely possibilities. First, there was the likelihood the bomb was indeed meant to kill His Excellency's brother, to send a warning to Mr. Treize. The other, and to Une, more dangerous possibility was mistaken identity. Lady Une's best guess was that the duke was the target and his brother was a victim of genetics. If that be the case, she needed to return to Mr. Treize immediately. She needed to be there to offer her support during his time of loss. Most importantly, she needed to be there to protect him. 

============================

            It was such a lovely dream. She couldn't quite put her finger on why it was a lovely dream, but Noin was loathe to give it up. Maybe it was simply the absence of confusion and terror that so often  accompanied her sleep. Whatever the cause, she clung to the hazy warmth of sleep as possible, ignoring the faint beeping that continued to intrude upon that comforting, fuzzy world between total oblivion and the dreaded moment of complete consciousness. The beep became steadily louder, prying into her delicious peace by degrees until it could be ignored no longer. She reached up with a heavy arm and slapped at the comlink by her bed until she managed to activate the call button.

"Hello?" 

The word was terribly muffled by the pillow Noin had over her head but was evidently loud enough for the caller to make out and he answered in kind.

"Good morning, Noin. Looking fine as usual."

The familiar male voice brought Noin to full consciousness in two seconds flat. She cowered under the pillow, gathering courage before peeking out to meet the familiar ice blue gaze of Zechs Merquise. She ran her fingers through her tousled hair, trying to make herself reasonably presentable as she looked up to the com display. Noin swallowed hard as she caught her first glimpse of Zechs framed in the small screen. Obviously fresh from the shower, he toweled his long hair for a moment then tossed the linen out of view and hunched towards the screen. Noin stared. Zechs was shirtless, damp hair clinging to his forehead and shoulders in thin tendrils. Small residual beads of water meandered along his neck and down the well defined muscles of the young man's chest. Noin swallowed again before daring to speak.

"Good morning yourself. To what do I owe the pleasure of this obnoxiously early call?"

"We are to report to His Excellency's headquarters immediately."

"Did he say why?"

"She, actually--Lady Une's order--and, no, she didn't elaborate."

"Une?" Noin couldn't keep the derision out of her voice at the revelation. "That can't be good."

"Agreed," Zechs nodded, frowning. "It feels like we're being gathered to form a united front."

"Lining all of His Excellency's pretty soldiers in a row."

"Exactly."

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Me, too."

"Well," Noin shrugged and tilted her head,  "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Zechs nodded and reached up to slick back his hair, giving Noin full view of his fine features. There was a slight pink glow to his skin which she presumed to be the result of a particularly hot shower. He liked to take hot showers after his morning workout. His skin was still covered with a thin layer of moisture. He was probably about to put on his aftershave. She loved the smell of his aftershave. It always reminded her of the kiss they shared on their fifteenth birthday. Noin sat up straighter and tried to push those thoughts out of her mind, acutely aware of the heat rising to her cheeks. 

Noin had come to accept the fact that she was physically attracted to Zechs. It had not been an easy admission to make to herself, but she did finally realize that there was nothing wrong with what she felt. Soldier or not, she was a woman as well and it would be strange for her not to react in such a way to the handsome young man, even if she had known him most of her life. If her heart occasionally skipped a beat when he approached, what of it? So she blushed from time to time when they brushed up against each other in passing, it didn't change anything. Not that it was easy to ignore those feelings. Every single time Zechs would lean down to make a comment for her ears only and his soft breath warmed the skin of her neck, it was all Noin could do not to tremble in delight. Most young women who saw him responded to his looks with varying degrees of lustful avarice. At least Noin didn't openly drool over Zechs. Well…not when anyone was paying attention. 

Sometimes, usually in the early morning, Noin would watch Zechs taking a walk or having his exercise and marvel at his beauty. He stood at just under six feet in height and was still growing. His slender body was lean and strong from constant activity, yet there was a grace in his movement that belied the power in his limbs. His long, platinum hair always seemed to dance with light, as did his eyes…when she could see them. That damned mask made its appearance more frequently as the young man's notoriety grew among Romefeller's elite. Away from the meddlesome nobility, Zechs had taken to wearing his dark aviator glasses almost constantly, ostensibly for convenience, but Noin suspected it was to avoid holding anyone's gaze for very long. Wearing the sunglasses nonetheless gave him an air of  masculine dignity mixed with just a hint of cockiness. All of their young troops looked to Zechs to set the example for how they behaved, how they dressed, how they drank their coffee, everything. It was hero worship at its finest and Noin was first in line. Although, she hoped she was a bit more cool in her admiration than the others.

When Noin found herself looking at her friend with such feminine admiration, her thoughts invariably bent towards how their relationship might change if she ever told him. It was not something she ever seriously considered doing, but wondered about anyway. How did Zechs feel about her? They had long since moved beyond the sibling rivalry they shared as children, but had he let go of that image of her completely? Yes, they had shared their first experimental kiss. Once or twice Zechs had allowed her the comfort of an friendly embrace, but all of those instances were spread out over two years. Three gestures of affection in all that time. He was not a physical person in that respect, never really had been, but if he felt more for her than camaraderie, wouldn't Zechs show some sign? It was not uncommon to look up and find the young man leaning in the doorway, waiting to be noticed or sometimes staring at her in an odd way, as though studying her.

"Noin?"

The young woman was wrenched from her meandering thoughts by the very object of her musings. "Huh?"

Zechs frowned slightly and repeated his question, "I asked if you can return to base by two o'clock?" 

"Sure." Noin glanced at her watch, more in an attempt to hide a blush than to ascertain the time. "I can be on a plane in an hour. Meet you at the airstrip?"

"I'll be waiting. Zechs out." 

            The nanosecond the screen was blank and the connection cut, Noin flopped on her back and pulled her pillow back over her head to stifle a groan. Why did she do this to herself? Between her nice evenings with Paolo and the shirtless image of Zechs on her comlink, Noin felt she would burst. To her horror, she found herself becoming one of those swooning, asinine females she had always held in contempt. Her duties, her studies, her career. _Those_ were the things in which she prided herself, not silly visions of romance. Yet, here she was, flushed and flabbergasted, unseemly thoughts streaking through her mind too quickly for her to stop. After a moment, she started laughing. This was _so_ not her. Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin--pilot, leader, diplomat--succumbing to lustful thoughts about her two oldest friends. The fact that she could harbor such feelings about two young men who were so very different confused the hell out of her. Nothing in her years of military training, none of the political etiquette lessons she endured over the past few weeks, nothing she had been taught by OZ prepared her for those feelings. She had no idea what to do about it.  

It wasn't terribly difficult to deal with what she felt for Paolo. Somehow it seemed rather normal to be attracted to the dark eyed young man. When they were living in Livorno, it was assumed that the natural course of their lives would bring them together. It was amazing after so many years and the vast differences in their circumstances that he should still be part of her life, but also expected in a way. They made sense. A brilliant young man with a future and a…what? Noin wasn't certain how to finish her own thought. In Rome she wasn't a soldier, she was a politician, or at least studying to be a politician, but was that really any better than being a lieutenant in the military? She never gave much thought to what she really wanted to do with her life. She had once entertained the idea of being an astronomer, but Noin never had the opportunity to make that choice for herself and rarely contemplated the idea. If it were possible, would she indeed wish to stay in Rome? Become a normal student, sing in the choir, have a boyfriend? All of that would mean leaving Zechs. 

Zechs.  Talk about  confusing emotions. One day he was simply her buddy and friendly adversary. The next he was the Lightning Count, a charismatic leader, steady and self-assured. A man who could rouse the hearts of troops to such a frenzy of pride that they would follow him into Hell. Then there were moments such as that morning when he was something all together different and alien.  It wasn't the easy relationship she enjoyed with the carefree Paolo, but she and Zechs had a long, painful history. There was a bond there that reached far beyond friendship, a bond that had existed for as long as she could remember. That wasn't something that could be disregarded. He wasn't simply a good friend, she felt as though Zechs was part of her somehow, though Noin wasn't quite certain what to make of that feeling or what it meant to Zechs. Whether what they felt for each other ever developed into something else, it would always be there, binding them together, regardless of who might come and go in their lives. Of course, knowing that didn't make the situation any less confusing. Two boys, two kisses, two entirely different versions of her life. What was she supposed to do?

"Do your duty and leave the rest to God." Noin mumbled to herself from beneath the pillow. 

Right now her duty was with OZ. The idea of leaving the military and staying in Rome was tempting to be sure, but it was not realistic. She had, over the years, come to believe in OZ and what the organization could accomplish. Her need for vengeance had dissipated with her youth and been replaced with a sense of duty. Noin wanted to be part of what was to come. She wanted to help bring a true and lasting peace to the world so that no other child had to travel in loneliness and despair as she had so many years ago. Being a soldier was a harsh, unyielding and contrary to her very nature, but it was in pursuit of a better future and she could help make that happen. She would remain as she was, a dedicated knight of OZ, for just a bit longer. Not just to support Zechs, not just to hide from her past, but because she was good at it and it gave her the opportunity to make a difference. Noin wanted a purpose, she wanted to believe.

With a sigh, Noin heaved herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, calculating how much time she would have to say good bye to Sister Marguerite and Paolo. She could shower and dress in no time. She brought very little, so packing would not be a problem. Saying goodbye once again, especially since she was forced to leave without warning, that would be the hard part. Noin knew, though, that things would be different this time. Now she had a place to return to if the wars became too much or her duties weighed too heavily. If she ever changed her mind about OZ or if the world finally came to its senses and peace was a reality, she had this place to return to. She could always go home.

============================

It was difficult for Lady Une to imagine that it had been a week since her hurried return to His Excellency's residence. The aftermath of the bombing on colony X-18999 had been as harsh as expected, but also quite surprising. In the days following, Romefellar, Treize in particular, set about canonizing the victims as they vilified the murderers. It made sense. A noble young officer killed alongside a young mother, a member of the powerful Barton clan no less, was prime material for the public relations division of Romefellar. It was the perfect opportunity to solidify the popularity of the Specials among the people of Earth. What troubled Une was not the opportunism of OZ, but her commanding officer's lack of concern. 

She stood at a respectable distance as His Excellency, Treize Kushrenada, received various members of the OZ elite. The pre-service reception lagged on for more than two hours already and was scheduled to last another. Such gatherings were tedious on a good day, but the present circumstances rendered the event even more unpalatable that day. She watched Mr. Treize expertly glide through the crowd, attending to each and every guest with his trademark charm. Anyone observing His Excellency would have trouble determining if the death of his best officer had any affect on him whatsoever. Une knew, however, that the loss was more devastating than he let on. She could see the subtle signs, the light circles under his eyes indicating sleeplessness, the increase in his alcohol intake, the uneaten meals left in his quarters. He was in pain, but could not afford to show it. The ceremony of his title forced him to hide the loss of his brother under layers of social decorum and forced etiquette.

            She couldn't imagine what it must be like not to acknowledge your own kin, though she was somewhat familiar with the awkwardness of never knowing one's father. Her aunt was a kind and loving guardian who never tired of telling the young woman of her late mother, but her father was a different matter. Une never knew anything of him and learned early on not to ask. She suspected some scandal involved, perhaps an imprudent elopement or no marriage at all, but could never determine why her aunt was so evasive. Whatever her origins, Letitia never once made Une feel less than loved and respected. She was treated no differently among the nobility than any other young woman of her rank. The idea of being rejected because of the circumstances of one's birth was foreign to her. Of course, that might have something to do with her gender. 

            As much as she liked to think OZ and Romefellar were oblivious to the stereotypes of gender, the bias did still exist. If anything good could be said of the Alliance, it was that gender played no part in promotion. Romefellar's strict adherence to old codes, however, often resulted in a strong division between men and women. Generally, this worked against ambitious women such as Lady Une, but in the matter of inheritance, it was often the opposite. Johnny could not be openly acknowledged for the simple fact that it complicated the line of succession for the Kushrenada titles. Une only formally met Johnny once, but had observed the brothers together on many occasions. They were obviously close, but the barrier of rank and social station must have had some impact. The young duke could not even claim his brother in death. What must it be like, she wondered, for His Excellency to be denied the simple privilege of mourning his brother openly? She did not know how it felt and had no way of determining how it might affect her superior officer, so Une pledged to remain close and watch carefully for any sign that he might need her assistance. Even the cool, sophisticated Treize Kushrenada had his breaking point. 

============================

            Johnny was dead.

            The memorial service was one hour away, if it could be called a memorial service. To Zechs Merquise it smacked more of a three hour recruitment commercial for the Specials. It was to be a grand display, worthy of one of OZ's most decorated young leaders. No less than seven speakers were scheduled, all no doubt anxious to hold the young man up as an example of dedication and sacrifice. Follow us and you too can die a hero's death. Statues would be erected, plaques engraved to commemorate the dead hero, schools renamed in his honor so that no one would forget. Martyrdom had its perks. Zechs grimaced as the razor he was using once again sliced a tiny groove in his cheek. That was the third nick this morning. His hands were shaking again. When he learned of Johnny's death, Zechs had to clutch his hands in tight fists to quell the trembling. A week later and he couldn't seem to get a handle on himself. It still felt as though someone shoved a sword in his gut.  The lieutenant wasn't used to feeling so unnerved and he hated the sensation, but the whole situation was so unexpected. Johnny was a soldier, his death should have been in honor on a battle field, not snuffed out by a coward's bomb. 

            Zechs finally gave up shaving and finished buttoning his shirt, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Death surrounded him since he was a small boy. Zechs wondered at his ability to be shocked by it now. His entire life was about death. Oh, he dressed it up in duty and honor, pretended it was unavoidable and necessary to protect the weak, but deep down he knew better. He was meant for this, destined to death and destruction, war and blood. He couldn't avoid it even when he tried. Another friend dead. Zechs stared at himself in the small mirror above the sink, gazing into his own eyes. He did not see the pained expression of a young man mourning the death of a surrogate brother. Instead, he saw his father staring back with scorn. 

            "_Remember who you are, son. We are Peacecrafts."_

Peacecraft. The very name was such a contradiction when applied to him. Zechs had little to do with peace, nothing to do with his father's non-violent teachings. He rejected the name not only to hide himself, but because he could no longer claim the honor. The heir to Cinq was dead. The crown would one day pass to someone truly worthy of the name. He would liberate, she would lead. Relena would take his place and live up to their father's ideals. Releana would restore all that men like her brother tore down. Zechs stiffened and glowered at his reflection. No, he could not even call himself her brother any longer. The boy she knew as Milli, the loving brother who created fantastic worlds and adventures for her was no longer. An ironic smile curved the edge of his lips as he recalled all of the fairytale imaginings from his childhood. It was so exciting back then to imagine himself in battle with trolls and evil wizards. Rescue the princess, save the kingdom, go home for lunch. It all seemed so benign. He understood the reality now and cringed at his childish fantasies of glory. He wished he could go back in time and talk some sense to the boy he had been. Slap the simple, trusting Milli hard across the face to teach him a lesson before it was too late, before the Alliance had the chance to knock that out of him. 

The young man looked at his hands, rubbing fingers together roughly before bending over the sink and violently wrenching the hot water faucet. As the warm water quickly heated to near scalding, Zechs soaped his hands, scrubbing between every finger, under every nail, until the skin was raw and red. He thrust his hands under the hot stream and grit his teeth at the familiar burning sensation. He repeated the action twice more before satisfying himself that his hands were clean and finally grabbed a hand towel, further irritating the now sensitive flesh.  

Zechs tucked in his shirttails and  put on the heavy red wool coat that marked his station and rank. He was no longer a prince, but somehow could not escape the trappings. Heavy gold braid, brass buttons, polished pewter buckles. The patent leather of his boots held a high gloss, his ceremonial saber clanked against his leg when he walked. Somewhere along the way he had turned into a caricature of the swashbuckling cavalier he pretended to be at age five. He cut quite the romantic figure now. He was a pilot and a knight. Everything he wished himself to be as a boy. The young lieutenant walked out into the bedroom to retrieve the last item he needed to be completely dressed. He picked up a silver mask, polished within an inch of existence, and held it at arm's length. Once again his reflection caught his gaze and held it mercilessly. His face was distorted by the curves and sharp angles of the finely crafted helmet, almost as though mocking the handsome man's fine features. The pointed nose guard cut a sharp line across his face as the small glass windows completely obscured his eyes. Appropriate and ironic, he decided, that this view of himself should be without eyes, the windows to the soul. 

The five-year-old Milliardo Peacecraft would have loved the idea of wearing a mask and the romantic idea of hiding his identity from the world. The grown Zechs Merquise felt like a coward. He didn't want to hide from his enemies, he wanted them to see who he was, to fight them with the full understanding of who brought their doom. Treize insisted, however, that his revenge be calculated and timed perfectly. If he was to indeed avenge his family, he must coolly wait for the proper opportunity. Zechs found this increasingly difficult the older he got. Every new step up the chain of command brought him into closer contact with the Alliance officers who destroyed his family. Sometimes he wondered if Treize did that on purpose, if he got some sick thrill out of dangling these men in front of his protégé, just to see what would happen. Once, Zechs actually had to shake hands with one of the men present at his father's assassination. It took every ounce of self control not to draw his saber and slice the man open right there, but a gentle hand at his elbow stayed such violent thoughts and Zech managed to leave without incident. 

            A light knock at the door and the soft sound of a female voice calling his name from the corridor pulled Zechs from his morbid thoughts. Speak of the devil, he mused. The owner of that gentling hand was now waiting for him in the hall. Noin. As horrid as the day would be, at least Noin would be there beside him. 

=========================

            Lady Une sat on the dais behind His Excellency and carefully scanned the large crowd packed into the cathedral. She had ordered extra security precautions be taken during the funeral but still she refused to relax. It was clear to her now that the bomb was indeed intended for Duke Treize and not his brother. Une was more determined than ever to guard her commander with all due diligence and then some. As it turned out, the memorial continued smoothly as did every other  function attended by Mr. Treize there after. Perhaps, she theorized, the bomb was a last minute effort prompted by the young officer's uncanny resemblance to his elder brother. If it was simply an attempt to take advantage of an apparent opportunity, then it was unlikely another plan was in the works, at least for the time being.  In any event, Une's vigil by His Excellency's side did not end with the funeral. 

The Lady remained by his side for weeks after, not just as his personal aid, but now also as his clandestined bodyguard. Une observed him closely over those weeks, noting the subtle change in His Excellency. She doubted anyone else would notice the small differences, but she knew and that was all that mattered. He took fewer visitors as the days progressed, canceling one engagement after another, making excuses to avoid important meetings. The only guest he seemed to welcome with any equanimity was Lieutenant Merquise. Their meetings were generally of some length and involved the consumption of large quantities of cognac, but afterwards, Mr. Treize always seemed in better spirits. Une was somewhat relieved that His Excellency was spending time with his former ward, hoping that the meetings provided some familial solace, but these hopes proved too ambitious. 

One afternoon she returned to the plush suite of  Mr. Treize's office and heard the unmistakable voices of  the duke and the lieutenant arguing loudly. That is to say, Lieutenant Zechs was uncharacteristically loud. The duke's voice was as even and low as always. Lady Une was not given to eavesdropping, at least not with His Excellency, but it was all but impossible not to hear some portion of the argument. The gist of the disagreement escaped her, but it had something to do with the young count's position in OZ. It ended with the normally cool Lieutenant Merquise storming out, not to return for some time. If the fight had any disturbing affect on His Excellency, he did not outwardly indicate so. His demeanor did not change. His mask of refined class and sophistication remained eerily intact. He seemed to be dealing with recent events remarkably well. 

Two months later, he finally broke. 

            It started at an insignificant meeting of Romefellar's general membership. The duke was one of the scheduled speakers, last on the agenda. As always, Mr. Treize spoke with eloquence on the role of the nobility in modern society, of a return to past graciousness yet the need to press forward. Halfway through the presentation. Une, ever watchful from the wings, began to note a tightness in the young man's voice, a rigidity in his bearing. She watched with increasing alarm as Mr. Treize slowly made a fist behind the podium, squeezing his fingers into his palm so tightly as to appear painful. As he concluded and the audience erupted in applause, Treize seemed to grow tense. His smile was forced, the wave of acknowledgement too sharp. He turned and briskly walked off stage where he was greeted by a swarm of female well wishers. Une expertly waded through the see of taffeta and lace until she reached His Excellency's side. She announced loudly that he was expected elsewhere and boldly took his elbow, guiding him out of the meeting hall and into his waiting car. 

            The ride back to his residence was deathly quiet. His Excellency did not even look at her. He simply stared out of his window with a strangely calm expression. When the car came to a stop, he exited without waiting for the servant to open his door and headed straight for his study. Une followed quietly, uncertain as to whether she had overstepped her position and angered His Excellency or if he was indeed as overwrought as she believed. If the latter were true, she could not leave him alone so followed him into the study but remained by the door so as not to intrude anymore than necessary. If Mr. Treize noticed her presence, he made no indication. The young man simply poured himself a stiff drink and quickly drained it then proceeded to pour another. 

The refill remained in the glass as His Excellency slowly walked to the plate-glass picture window that spanned the wall behind the oak desk. He stood staring out at nothing, glass in hand, unmoving. Daylight was beginning to fade but was still strong enough to highlight the man's neatly groomed hair. Une was suddenly taken back to their first meeting. He was so confident and deservedly so. No one had as much right to self confidence than the man standing before her. He bore the burdens of leadership on strong and willing shoulders, never faltering in his beliefs, never failing in his quest. He was going to be all right, Une decided as she turned to go. 

Before she reached the door the startling sound of breaking glass stopped her in her tracks. She whirled around to see His Excellency clutching the broken shards of his goblet in his fist. The blood from his injured hand now soaked through his crisp white glove and began to drip onto the toe of his immaculately polished boots. His face betrayed nothing. His stare was as blank as before, his posture as rigid. Une dashed forward and grasped the man's wrist, pressing on a specific spot on at the base of his palm. It was a pressure point that would weaken the muscles in his hand, hopefully enough for the shards of crystal to fall away. This was normally a defensive move used in hand-to-hand combat. Une never dreamed she would have to use it on her commanding officer. 

Her action produced the desired effect and His Excellency's hand went slack. Lady Une carefully removed the remaining slivers and gingerly peeled away the torn and stained glove. There were several small gashes crisscrossing the man's palm, but none seemed exceptionally deep. She looked up at Mr. Treize, searching for some sign of recognition, but found only an emotionless stone. She called his name. No response. Une retrieved a towel from the adjoining bath and wrapped His Excellency's hand tightly. Once again she took his arm, this time guiding him out of the study and upstairs to his private chamber as she quietly issued orders to the shocked servants. 

The first night was the most difficult. Une managed to rid him of his uncomfortably elaborate uniform jacket and boots. She coaxed the unresponsive man into laying down and set about properly tending his wounded hand. She cleaned the cuts, picking out tiny bits of glass, then disinfected and bandaged his hand. Through out the entire operation, Mr. Treize did not flinch, did not react. He flung his other arm across his eyes and simply lay on the velvet bedspread, unmoving. Lady Une sat in a chair near the bed and watched all night as her commander fell into an uneasy sleep. She watched as he tossed and mumbled through nightmares. All night, she watched. 

The next morning, when he seemed to finally have become more restful, she walked into the bathroom to see if she needed to straighten herself up a bit. One glance in the mirror told her everything she needed to know. Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick all but gone and small wisps of hair had pulled free of the tight braids at the nape of her neck. Sighing at her decidedly unglamorous reflection, Une set about washing her face and freeing her hair from its bonds. She finger combed her shoulder-length hair as best she could and put on her glasses. The young woman ran a hand over her uniform in a futile effort to smooth out the many wrinkles, but decided it was a lost cause and removed the coat altogether. She tugged at her undervest, then returned to find Mr. Treize sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched in an unnatural air of defeat. She almost gasped at the sight. This was not right. This was not the man she knew. This was a shell. She could not-- _would_ _not_ allow this to happen to His Excellency.

First order of business was a bath. She filled the spacious tub and convinced Mr. Treize to partake. The young man followed obediently but Une ended up undressing him and helping him into the warm soapy water, carefully averting her gaze with as much dignity as she could muster. After a few minutes, the duke seemed to finally relax and enjoy the warm water, but still did not acknowledge his surroundings. Afraid to leave him alone when he remained in a near catatonic state, Une unceremoniously knelt by the tub and began to wash him, soaping and rising his well-muscled body with an almost clinical efficiency. She would not take the time to admire his physique, it wouldn't be proper and Une would not take advantage of the circumstances, no matter how tempting. She shampooed his thick hair, using more tenderness than she thought herself capable of and helped him out of the bath and into his robe. 

His Excellency was clean, but not quite groomed, so she sat him in a chair by the huge antique sink and prepared to give him a shave. With a  light touch, she applied a thin layer of lotion then picked up the old-fashioned straight razor Mr. Treize insisted on using. Une sighed inwardly as she skillfully began to glide the blade along His Excellency's unblemished skin. She could never could quite understand why her aunt insisted she learn how to shave a man. It never seemed a likely prospect, but now she was grateful for Letitia's instruction.  As the Lady finished the last stroke, she finally looked down and noticed Mr. Treize staring. He was not blankly gazing but actually looking at her with clear-eyed intensity. Une held the man's stare before a blush threatened to appear and she forced herself to look away. She grabbed a towel and gently wiped the residual soap from Mr. Treize's chin. Une was about to ask him if he wished to order breakfast when the young man unexpectedly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her chest. Under different circumstances, Une would have broken a man's arm for such a maneuver, but this wasn't a coy young  nobleman making a pass. It was an act of grief.

            Une stiffened, uncertain as to how to react. Her colonel was reaching out for consolation, but she did not know how to respond. Giving comfort was a rather foreign idea to her and she was reluctant to try. She didn't know what to say to ease his pain nor what action to take to lessen to his anguish. After an uncomfortably long pause, Une hesitantly wrapped her arms around the young man and began stroking his damp hair, trying to think of some soothing words to offer. Unable to think of anything appropriate, she remained silent and allowed him the moment of weakness he denied himself for far too long. Une simply gave in to the instincts she normally quashed and held him close, the icy façade of a battle mistress slipping away. In its place rose the serene woman she allowed to surface only in those rare moments of affection she shared with her aunt. Gone, for now, was the officer. Now she was simply Une, a trusted friend. She smoothed the duke's ginger hair in rhythmic strokes and gently rubbed the other hand across his back as he trembled with grief. 

They stayed like that for quite a while, for once unmindful of the image each tried so diligently to project. For the time being, they were not officers, not superior and subordinate, but two human beings. Lady Une found herself absorbing as much comfort as she offered, trying to make sense of the unusual sensation of this emotional connection. At length, Mr. Treize did loosen his tight hold on the young woman, hastily wiping his eyes as he drew back.  As Lady Une pulled away, His Excellency looked up at her with earnest, red-rimmed eyes and spoke. 

"Please…what is your name?"

Alarmed that he did not seem to recognize her, Une leaned over an put a hand on his shoulder, staring into his eyes intently. "It's me, Excellency…it's Une…"

Treize smiled tolerantly at her and clarified, "Yes, Lady, I know who you are…" He enclosed her hand with his and squeezed it gently. "I was asking for your given name. I don't recall it."

"Oh…it's Aneke."

"Aneke." The young man repeated the name, allowing it to roll off his tongue a few times, "that is a lovely name. Do you mind if I call you Aneke while we are here?"

"No, of course not, sir."

"And please, Aneke…" he lifted her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed Une's knuckles, not with flirtation but with honest gratitude. "Please call me Treize…just Treize."

"All right, Treize." Aneke Une looked down at her patient, touched by the gentle smile on his lips. She smiled in return and gave his hand a squeeze. "Now, I think you should get some rest."

"As you wish."

Treize allowed her to lead the way back into the bedroom and obeyed her gentle command to return to bed. She pulled the covers up around him. As she leaned over, Treize reached up and ran his fingers through her unbound hair, offering her a weak smile. Relieved by the spark of life she detected there, Une called down to the kitchen for a breakfast tray. 

            He remained in his suite, attended only by Aneke, for two more days. His absence was explained by an unexpected cold, all contact was filtered through Lady Une. Over the course of that weekend, and with Aneke's quiet care, Treize gradually regained himself. By Monday, he was reconciled to his brother's death as much as could be expected and ready to reemerge as the charming duke everyone anticipated. Lady Une spent her last hour alone with Treize helping him dress. She held out his freshly cleaned uniform coat as he slipped his arms inside, brushing at insignificant bits of lint clinging about the shoulders, then turned her attention to the buttons. Aneke Une took a step back and surveyed her handiwork. Before her stood His Excellency once more, no longer in need of her attentions. It was time for her to go. Just as she turned, Treize caught her hand, holding her in place.

"Lady, when we leave this room…" The fact that Treize was once again using her title finished the sentence for him.

"This will never be spoken of, Excellency, you have my word."

"Good." Treize nodded, smiling a little sadly. "Before you go, I wanted to tell you how very much I appreciated your presence these past few days."

Une looked down briefly, glancing at her hand still held delicately in his. "It was nothing, sir."

"Oh, but it was to me." He turned towards her, taking a step closer and raised a gloved hand to her cheek. "I will never forget your kindness, my dear Aneke. I know I would have run mad if not for you."

Lady Une, feeling a bit overwhelmed, swallowed back a lump in her throat before responding. "Please know that if you ever need anything—_anything_—you may call on me…Treize."

Treize made no verbal reply. He raised his other hand to cup the young woman's face tenderly and smiled. It was the rarest of smiles, one of genuine affection not smooth refinement or casual flirtation. It was a smile Une would later come to treasure and one made precious by its infrequency. A smile meant solely for her.

==========================

"Once again, you have a choice, Zechs. You may leave now—and leave behind all hope of vengeance—or follow me. One option will leave you free to make your own choices, the other free to exact a brilliant revenge. The choice is yours." 

            Treize's words still rang in Zechs' mind with crystal clarity two months after the fact. Yes, he had a choice and Treize made it perfectly clear. He could continue to run for the rest of his life or have his revenge. Some bloody choice. Zechs had no qualms about fighting nor about following orders which contradicted his upbringing as a prince of Peacecraft, that was not the cause of the argument that suddenly sprang up between the two men. He was willing to move into the command position of Johnny's battalion, despite the hideous way in which he received the promotion. Johnny's death had been turned to the service of OZ with sickening skill. Everyone benefited, whether it be the chance for the elites to grandstand or his own promotion, all tragedy could be turned to the use of Romefellar. Even that mercenary tact could be dealt with. What upset Zechs was something altogether different. 

            Zechs took command of Johnny's—now, his—mobile suite division almost immediately. His first act was to select a second in command. The best officer under his command. Noin. He submitted the proper paperwork, mainly out of formality, but was stunned to find his recommendation overturned by order of His Excellency. Noin brushed the incident off remarkably well, though Zechs new what a blow it must be to her. He wasn't certain what made him angrier. The fact that his suggestion had been summarily rejected or that the best pilot in OZ was being held back. He immediately arranged a meeting with Treize to speak about the matter, certain that Noin's status as a commoner with a conferred title must be the cause of His Excellency's veto. Instead, to his shock, Zechs discovered that Noin's lack of social status had very little to do with the matter. 

            " 'You've grown too dependent on the girl, Zechs.' " Zechs quoted his mentor in a mumble slurred by the alcohol he was steadily ingesting.

            His father had made almost exactly the same comment twelve years prior. The situations were vastly different, but the sentiment was oddly the same. Treize also thought that the friendship Zechs maintained with Noin somehow made him weak, that his duties suffered. Never mind that the efficiency rating of his mobile suit division was the highest in OZ. Ignore the fact that Noin's skills with strategy assured them victory in almost every battle they fought. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Zechs was fond of her and, according to Treize, that made him vulnerable. Treize was going to transfer her to the political wing of OZ. If she were placed in command of her own division, perhaps Zechs could accept that. After all, some of what Treize said made sense. The concept that Noin would be better off away from him was logical, but transfer to the _diplomatic_ corps? She was a _pilot_. To be anything else was an insult to her hard won accomplishments. It was her punishment for having the unmitigated nerve to befriend the Lightning Count. 

            He should have seen it coming, Zechs supposed. Since the chateau ball several months ago, Treize had found all manner of 'temporary' assignments for Lieutenant Noin. Diplomatic training in Rome, protocol duties at Romefeller's conference in St. Petersburg, escorting colony delegates on a brief visit to Earth. Any little excuse. It was so obvious now. Treize was trying to split them up. Divide and Conquer. Loyalty to no one but His Excellency and his vision of peace. Dissention was not tolerated. 

            Zechs gulped down what was left in his shot glass and set it down, opting instead for a swig straight from the bottle. He was sitting in the middle of the floor in his comfortable room at division headquarters. He was only hours out of the most recent battle, one fought without the support of Noin. Once again, she was called away just before his team was called out. She was on her way back and he considered waiting for her but changed his mind and retired to his room with a full bottle of whiskey. He didn't open it immediately, instead going through the motions of cleaning himself up and changing into a fresh uniform. He got as far as changing into clean trousers before the call of alcohol got the better of him. So there he sat, shirtless, shoeless and perfectly drunk. One of the many lessons he learned from the Kushrenadas.

            Surprisingly, it wasn't Treize's revelation that drove the young man to his present state, but rather the realization that Treize was right. It was not a new thought to Zechs, the idea that his friendship with Noin was in direct conflict to his purpose in OZ, but he had successfully rationalized it over the years. As they grew up and he found himself growing more attracted to his beautiful young comrade, Zechs began to feel the pull of other desires. There were times when he even questioned his need for revenge. Would it really change anything? Would killing the men who destroyed his family really take away the anger and pain that had fueled him for so long? He was still young. At seventeen he still had time to turn away from the life of blood he so willingly flung himself into at age eleven. He could still save himself from the Hell he created with Treize. He and Noin could leave, together. Find some quiet place to finish growing up.

            Reality always broke through such fanciful thoughts. The nightmare memory of his fathers mangled face and the searing image of his mother's delicate, broken body reminded him of his true course, his destiny. There was no room for friends in his quest. Friends end up dead, their loss blurring one's vision and delaying the inevitable. Johnny once told him that OZ did not own his heart. Treize insisted a true soldier had no heart, only the claims of duty. Somewhere in between lay the truth. Somewhere in between lay the capacity to fight and still keep his best friend. Fierce, loyal Noin. Beautiful, brave, intelligent Noin, with eyes too deep for any man's good. Perfect lips, perfect hair. Perfect, lilac-scented Noin.  

            As if on cue, Zechs heard a soft knock. He ignored it and the successive repeats until he heard the squeak of hinges as the door opened a fraction. He knew who it was without looking, but asked anyway.

"Noin?"

"Of course," she confirmed as she walked in, "who were you expecting? The Queen of Sheba?"

"Hmm. There does seem to be a resemblance." Zechs murmured groggily as he took another swig from the bottle.

"How much of that have you had?"

"Dear little Noin. Always so concerned." He held the bottle up in toast to the puzzled young woman. " 'Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens.' "

_"Poetry? God, you __are drunk," Noin responded in annoyance, purposely ignoring the sentiment of the slurred words. _

"Pardon me, but I was quoting the Bible." Noin's look of skepticism prompted Zechs to defend himself with specifics. "Song of Solomon, chapter 2, verse 2."

Noin nodded in defeat as she took the bottle away and set it aside. She grabbed his arm, tugging at him a bit and finally managed to pull Zechs unsteadily to his feet. "Of all  the Bible verses Ingrid made us learn and _that's the one you remember?" Zechs swayed precariously a moment before draping heavy arms around his caretaker. Noin hooked an arm around his waist and led him over to the bed. _

"It was the only book of the Bible Ingrid wouldn't allow us to read unsupervised, remember? Naturally I snuck off to read it whenever I had the opportunity. I just didn't understand most of it at the time. I remember many verses…for instance," Zechs turned so that he was facing Noin, keeping her trapped in the circle of his embrace. "I also remember a verse from chapter 4… 'Awake, north wind, and come, thou south wind and…and…" He paused, frowning down at Noin, pretending he couldn't quite remember. 

" 'And send thy breeze across my garden that its fragrance may spread abroad.' " Noin supplied quietly.

"That right…but there's more, is there not?" Zechs knew the rest but, in his present state of inebriated inhibition, he wanted to make Noin say it.

" 'Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.' " 

Zechs smiled at the faint tint of pink that spread across Noin's cheeks. She was so pretty when she blushed. She was always so daring and forceful in uniform. So confident and unflappable. He admired all of those things about her, but making Noin reveal the softer, less self-possessed side he knew so well seemed like good recreation at the moment, so Zechs decided to make her blush again. He pulled Noin forward, gently pushing her head to his chest.

"That's right, now I remember." Zechs nuzzled against her hair and dipped his head to whisper in her ear. "Chapter 8, verse 6. 'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame,' " Zechs tightened his grip, pulling Noin closer. He breathed in the scent of her hair, absorbed the subtle warmth of her skin and murmured, "I remember a good number of verses from that book…" He brushed his lips across the girl's earlobe down to the soft curve of skin below, " 'Thy neck is as an tower of ivory…And thy mouth like the best wine that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.' " 

Suddenly overcome by Noin's presence, Zechs clutched her body tightly to his, burying his face in her neck. He wanted to block out everything else. No sight, no touch, no taste but Noin.  He wanted to know what it felt like to drown himself in the embrace of a woman. _This_ woman.  He felt Noin lean into his embrace as her arms tightened around his waist. Delicate hands gently slid up the bare skin of his back, causing his muscles to instinctively contract and quiver under her touch. Noin burrowed against his chest, timidly pressing against him. Zechs whispered the young woman's name against the pale skin of her throat, inhaling the soft fragrance with deep breaths. He lightly kissed at the exposed span of skin, indulging in the deliciously foreign taste. His lips traveled upward to the curve of her jaw, pausing to once again murmur affectionate phrases in the girl's ear. He pulled back slightly, intending to enjoy a second kiss from Noin's lips, when suddenly her hands were planted on his chest. She gave him a violent shove, her effort punctuated with a harsh grunt. Zechs found himself toppling backwards ungracefully onto the bed and looking up at a livid Noin. 

"Sleep it off. We've got maneuvers in the morning and several members of Romefellar will be observing."

Without another word, the young woman stiffly walked out of the room. She didn't slam the door behind her as he might have expected. She didn't yell at him nor shower him with all manner of well-deserved curses. She merely left. Violent & Angry Noin he understood. Throwing things, yelling, that he could handle, but Quiet & Angry Noin? That was disturbing. That was not good at all. The full force of what he had just done came crashing down on him. How could he have treated her like that? Drunk or not, Zechs never imagined he could behave in such a dishonorable way, _especially_ with Noin. It was the worst kind of disrespect. Zechs put his hands to his face and moaned. 

"What have I done?" 

================ End Chapter 8 ==================   

Waddya know, Zechs has hormones and they've discovered Noin. Hehehe. Sorry if Zechs was a bit out of character, but he was drunk. I figure even Zechs gets out of character when he's under the influence. As you may have guessed, that scene was based on the infamous "Wild Turkey" pic. Yes, all of those suggestive quotes Zechs used _are_ from the Bible (I use the NIV version, but the last one was from the KJ version) in the book Song of Solomon, in case you want to look it up. Now, go forth and embarrass your Sunday school teachers.

_Disclaimer:_ And the Lord said, "Lady Dante does not own Gundam Wing. If thee sue her, I will smite thee!"

_Religious Disclaimer: _No blasphemy intended, Lord, so please don't shoot a lightning bolt at me or send a burning bush or anything. I have enough problems with toasters.


	9. Showdown

Uh…okay, so it's a little later than Monday, but at least it's up. I was beginning to wonder if I'd _ever_ finish. Uploading from my friendly local library, so this hasn't been proofed or edited, only spell-checked once. Be tolerant, please. Still Grows the Lilac 

Book II of The Lilac Princess

By Lady Dante

Chapter 9 Showdown 

Why did she let that happen? 

Lucretzia Noin stalked out of the Bachelor Officer's Quarters and made her way across the compound the main hanger building. She angrily shed her uniform jacket and climbed into the cockpit of her Aries. Tomorrow, she and Zechs would be pitted against each other in a mock battle for a group of visiting Romefellar bigwigs. Their division would be split into two sections, one led by Zechs, the other commanded by Noin. Normally, it would fall to Zechs' second in command to lead the other team, but the officer Treize appointed to that position a few weeks prior had been mysteriously called away. Very coincidental, Noin thought. But then again, there were always coincidences afoot when His Excellency got involved. 

Noin wasn't blind. She could see what was going on, even if Zechs refused to talk to her about it. Colonel Treize was trying to break them up, kill their friendship. From his point of view, it made sense. Fraternization between officers could lead to poor performance on the battlefield, but Zechs and Noin were friends. Their relationship was platonic and had never caused a problem with their duties. Well, it hadn't been a problem until last night. 

            "Damn fool," Noin muttered as she began yanking off electrical panels to make adjustments to her suit's maneuvering system. "Damn, drunken sot."

Noin continued to curse the fact that Zechs had gotten himself falling-down drunk, but that wasn't really why she was mad. That wasn't what hurt. What upset her was the fact that Zechs reached out for her yet didn't mean any of it. He held her close, whispered sweet endearments to her, made her feel beautiful and wanted and…but he was drunk, so he couldn't possibly have _meant_ any of it. He probably would have said the same things to any woman who found him in such a state. Noin rubbed her eyes wearily. No. Zechs wouldn't have said those things to just anyone, she knew that, but that made it worse in a way. Zechs was upset, he got himself drunk and decided to use _her_ to make himself feel better, without regard for how it might affect her. Under different circumstances, Noin would have relished the feeling of his body held close to hers, at first she had allowed herself to enjoy the moment, but as Zechs leaned in for a kiss and Noin caught the pungent odor of whiskey on his breath, she was suddenly hit with the realization that it was not real. Now she was confused, torn between the anger of being used and the joy of his passionate embrace.

Confusion seemed to be the only thing they had lately. Their duties, Treize more precisely, kept them apart more and more. The less she saw of Zechs, the more muddled their relationship seemed to become. He was starting to hide behind that mask more often, whether it was necessary to hide his identity or not, unwilling now to meet anyone's gaze, not even hers. Noin felt as though he was hiding from her, not just his enemies.

In a way, Noin hid from him as well. They were friends, comrades, fellow officers. She could speak to him about battle, about their hopes for the future, the sickening realization that they were becoming very skillful killers, but there were some things she could not speak of around the wounded young man. They no longer spoke of the past, not in any meaningful way. Sometimes they reminisced about insignificant moments from their childhood, but never strayed deeper and even those mild memories were being steadily buried. Zechs couldn't bear to be reminded of where he came from anymore. It seemed the older they got, the more battles they fought, the more Zechs hated himself. He had fallen far short of what he perceived to be his father's expectations and this knowledge ate at him daily. Noin tried to help him see the futility in his guilt, but soon found that the more she tried, the more he pushed her away. Fearful that he would shut her out completely, she had finally dropped the effort and instead remained ready to listen in the event he changed his mind.

But he didn't change his mind. Instead he grew more passive, hiding himself behind a wall of cool sophistication. It made him a striking figure. The dashing young lieutenant gallantly leading men into victory. Romefellar's Lightening Count, the sword of Duke Treize. Noin knew him as a wounded boy, troubled by demons he could not slay. Her understanding seemed sometimes to be the only outlet for his suffering. Still, Zechs had treated her like a toy and she would not tolerate such behavior from him. She had as much to mourn as he, as much reason to fight. He had no right to think he was the only one in pain. He had no right to think she would just give in to his advances. She was not some weak, pathetic person who would melt at the slightest overture of romance and she was going to prove that tomorrow on the battlefield. Noin smiled as she continued the adjustments to her Aries.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, the lieutenant mused, particularly if she has her own mobile suit. 

============================

            Zechs smoothed his platinum hair away from his forehead and put on his mask, unusually grateful for it's tinted lenses. Normally, he considered the eye slits too dark, a hindrance to his peripheral vision, but that morning was different. He welcomed the shield from the glare of the rising sun, particularly since he suffered from an acute hangover. No. "Hangover" sounded too benign. He should come up with a completely new word to describe what he suffered at that moment.  His head ached, his vision blurred, his hands shook. On top of it all, he was expected to stand in front of his men, give them a reason to fight for him and win.

            The famed Lightening Count rubbed his stiff neck and took a deep breath to steady his nerves before stepping out into the hanger. Before him stood fifteen mobile suits and their pilots, all waiting expectantly for Zechs Merquise to rally them to the fight. He paced in front of the line as he spoke, expounding on the nobility of their cause, praising their abilities, demanding their best effort. By the time he was finished, the group of young officers was cheering for a sure victory. Zechs watched them leap into their machines, ready for a good fight. He grabbed the cable to his own Aries and hoisted himself into the pilot's seat, letting out a relieved grunt as the hatch closed and left him in relative darkness. 

            Zechs called the group to march and led them out onto the field, having all of the suits raise a salute to the visiting dignitaries as they passed. He ordered his group to stop opposite a line of fifteen more suits led by Lucretzia Noin. Zechs swallowed to dispel a sudden dryness in his throat. He was nervous, he realized with contempt, he was _actually_ nervous. He had been piloting suits since he was a child. He was hardened by real battle, but he was uneasy about meeting his best friend in a duel. Normally, both he and Noin would leap at the chance to square off against each other, enjoying the friendly, if fierce, rivalry they shared since childhood, but the impending battle was different. 

            Zechs made the first move, as he usually did. He didn't like waiting for his enemy to be bold and make the first move. The best way to judge an opponent's skill was to fight and see where the weaknesses lay. He ordered his men to do the same, charging each to take on a specific suit. Zechs tactics were of personal skill, the individual soldier besting a specific opponent and moving on. It honed his own skills to take on as many enemies as he could at the same time. He had his men do the same. 

            Noin's strategy was completely different. She put an emphasis on the group. Everyone had a job, every one worked together. Which is why Zechs felt he could defeat her. Her tactics had failed against him before, why should today be different? Not that he was arrogant enough to believe this would be easy. Noin was a cunning adversary, always full of surprises, but her devotion to The Art of War worked against her. He knew that book, but disagreed with much of it. Noin felt the best way to fight was to find a way not to fight at all. Zechs felt that avoiding a fight simply delayed the inevitable. It always came back to war, to victory and defeat. There was no peace without a threat of war lurking behind. 

            Which made it all the more surprising when Noin's troops took the lead. Four of his fifteen suits were disabled already, two more in less than great condition. Noin was relentless, both in her commands to her soldiers and in her own method of fighting. She had a good plan, he could see the general outline in his mind's eye, but it was the fierceness with which she fought that surprised him. Noin put three of the damaged suits out of commission personally. She was out to win today, as always, but also to prove herself and her methods. And she was succeeding. 

Zechs had avoided taking her on directly at first, but now charged her directly. He was letting his guilt over the night before cloud his judgment. This was a battle. There was no place for regrets on the battlefield. He drew his beam saber and advanced. Noin was ready and, uncharacteristically, attacked first. This caught Zechs off guard momentarily, but he recovered quickly and returned each blow methodically. Noin's troops moved into support positions, clearly expecting the battle to be decided by that one central duel. They were correct. Zechs knew if Noin bested him in this fight, his men would loose confidence and become easy targets for the opposing team. 

Noin spun her suit around, using both arms to deliver a crashing blow to the leg of Zechs' suit. He retaliated with a strike of his own and followed up with an attempt to slice the suit's head off. In battle, it was typical to go for one of two points on a mobile suit. Either the torso, containing the pilot, or the head which housed the main sensor arrays and navigational relays. Cut off a suit's head and you effectively cut off the pilots ability to maneuver. The increasingly brutal duel continued for an hour, each advancing and retreating, vicious blows delivered and received. At one point, Noin managed to back Zechs into the stray remains of one of his team's suits, forcing him to pull his Aries violently to the side. The action temporarily left the torso unprotected and Noin immediately reared back to deliver another hit, but froze, saber halted just in time. The blow, very appropriate in a real battle, would have been too dangerous for the present game. Zechs immediately took advantage of Noin's halted strike and sliced the head off of her Aries. Her suit lurched backwards and fell to one knee and the battle was finished. 

Lieutenant Merquise quickly exited his own mobile suit, to the cheers and fanfare of his own men and made his way off the field without bothering to wait for Noin. The open com-links had provided him with an audio clue as to the young woman's condition. She was unhurt, but very definitely angry at the loss. He didn't have the strength at that moment to face Noin, both because of his still resounding headache and the uncertainty of how she would behave. It was normal for her to be angry with herself if her team lost, but she was also still angry about his behavior the previous night. She had to be. He had never seen Noin react that way to anything and he had no idea what it meant. 

It would serve him right, he decided, if she just didn't speak to him again. He was supposed to greet the Romefellar representatives, but instead quickly made his way inside, seeking out one of the officers' lounges. He paced for a few moments, then turned to start back out the door and came face to face with Lucretzia Noin.  He stepped to the side to allow her to pass, but she moved with him, still blocking his path. Zechs finally turned, stepping aside to yield the right of way. Noin remained in the doorway, arms crossed and unmoving.

"Will you just apologize already so we can get on with our lives?"

Her tilted head and the hint of amusement on her face were a definite relief. Once again, she let him off the hook. Not that Zechs felt he deserved it, but he was glad just the same. Particularly since she seemed to have found her sense of humor again. He reached up and, after making certain they were alone, pulled off his dusty mask, tossing it into a chair near the door.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. It was all he could say at the moment, and Zechs knew it would be enough, but still he felt the need to explain his actions. To himself if not to her. "Noin, I behaved abominably last night. I don't know…" Zechs paused, oddly at a loss for words. Strange, he thought, he had no trouble formulating the perfect impromptu pep talk for his soldiers, but having to apologize to his best friend invariably sent his tongue into a coma. Noin picked up on his hesitation.

"Look…you were drunk and your hormones got away with you, that's all. So did mine."

Zechs glanced at her, eyebrows a fraction higher. "Yours?"

"Yes," Noin said firmly, but did not look directly at the young man "We're seventeen, Zechs. Our minds may be set at thirty, but our bodies are still stuck in teen-mode. I think it's normal to feel…" Noin paused, gesturing vaguely as she considered her words. "…to feel…_that_ way, you know? Hormones have a tendency to run amok."

"Especially when fed too much liquor."

Noin's jaw tightened. "Yes, especially then." Zechs could see her body stiffen ever so slightly and it worried him. Suddenly she was angry again. He took a moment to recall exactly what he did the previous night. It was a little fuzzy. He knew he held her too close, tried to kiss her, but had he gone further? Did he do something worse, something he couldn't remember? He wouldn't have been _that_ careless. He couldn't have been. 

"Noin, if I did something more than make a clumsy pass I don't remember. That's no excuse, but if I have more to apologize for, then you will have to tell me."

Noin looked to the side, turning her face from his and allowing her long bangs to shield her face. He knew that trick, but he resisted the impulse to reach over and brush her hair from her eyes, at least until he knew why she was still angry. He stood in silence, waiting to see if she would answer. After a moment, she did, but in a strangely quiet, very controlled tone.

"It was just difficult to hear those things…"

Zechs cringed. Oh hell, he must have said something vile and insulting. What? He remembered quoting bible verses, whispering her name…

"…all of those lovely things…"

What could he have said that was so offensive…wait, did she just say _lovely_?

"…especially when you didn't mean a word of it."

The young man gazed at his friend for a moment before slowly asking, "What makes you think I didn't mean it?"

Noin's head snapped back around, surprise and anger evident. "Don't you dare joke with me about this, Zechs. That was _not_ easy for me to say."

"I wasn't joking. Last night I…my method might have been inept and childish, but the sentiments were honest." 

Noin swallowed, her eyes leaving his as she half-heartedly joked, "What you can remember of them anyway."

"Touché." 

Noin moved from the doorway and took a seat, sighing wearily as she did so. "This is starting to become a problem isn't it?"

"Yes," Zechs acknowledged quietly as he joined her on the sofa, "but that's not to say we couldn't handle the situation. It simply isn't the right time."

"I know. It won't be the right time for a while."

"We've sacrificed our youth to this cause, but it won't always be like this. The rebellion is brewing."

"Once we have destroyed the Alliance, then what? Throw away our uniforms, grab a pair of jeans and try to act like we're normal?"

Zechs leaned back, draping an arm against the back of the small couch. "No, of course not, but we will be able, finally, to look to those areas of our lives that we were forced to ignore."

"Is that what you really want?" Noin asked and turned to look at him, large violet eyes searching his own. Zechs suddenly felt a little lost, consumed in a sea of blue. He looked away, not trusting what would come out of his mouth if he continued to gaze into her eyes. 

"Yes, that _is_ what I want. _Eventually_." It was the first time Zechs allowed himself to say it aloud, the first time he fully acknowledged the feeling to himself. "Just not now…not until I've had my chance at the bastards who destroyed my family… assuming I live through it."

"_Assuming_ you'll live through it," Noin mocked with a snort. "You talk a good game about being willing to die in battle, Zechs Merquise, but when it comes right down to it, you're out there trying to keep your arrogant butt alive, just like the rest of us." Noin smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the sofa. 

"Yes, well someone has to be around to beat you at chess and keep you from becoming too full of yourself." 

Noin grinned, tilting her head to peer around her hair. Zechs admired the pretty change of expression then smiled faintly.  "Are we okay now?"

"Yeah, we're okay," Noin nodded, smiling mischievously, "at least until you do something else stupid."   

============================

            Treize stood at the window of his temporary office, gazing out at the battlefield. He had just arrived that morning, barely in time to witness the battle. Actually, it was a practice maneuver, but Treize saw little difference in the mock skirmish he witnessed earlier and a legitimate battle. The only distinction, to his mind, was the lack of death. He had hesitated to pit Lucretzia Noin and Zechs Merquise against one another initially, but then realized it would be the perfect opportunity to deepen the rift slowly forming between the two. If neither backed down, then it fed their natural rivalry. They had always been competitive, but until recently, it had been a friendly adversaries. Treize was determined to change that. If, on the other hand, they faced off and one hesitated to strike, then His Excellency had the perfect excuse to send the weaker officer away. And so it came to pass. Lieutenant Noin blinked. Demotion was not a consideration, but reassignment was perfectly acceptable. The dashing young man walked to his desk and activated the intercom.

            "Yes, Excellency?"

            "Send for Lieutenant Noin."

            "Yes, sir."

            _"Step one,"_ Treize thought as he walked to the elaborate chess set he insisted on bringing everywhere. It lent an air of dignity to his surroundings. It also served another purpose. Meeting over a chessboard was an effective way of measure another's temperament. It was a test Zechs had endured many times. Today, it was Lucretzia's turn. It would seem cruel to someone who did not understand his motives, but Treize had convinced himself that separating his two best officers was the only way to keep them sharp. Their duty lay with OZ, not each other. The sooner they both realized that, the better off everyone would be. He had given Zechs the chance to leave, but only because he knew the outcome. Zechs would not give up his quest for revenge, not even for the beautiful Lucretzia. Lieutenant Noin might have made a different choice. His Excellency knew the young woman well enough to see that her duty was important, her commitment to OZ deep, but nothing could outweigh the compassion Lucretzia harbored in her heart. She would not turn from a friend under any circumstances. Her heart simply did not work that way. 

            That said, Noin was an excellent soldier and commander, inspiring loyalty from her troops that almost rivaled their loyalty to the duke himself. Once drawn into a fight, she was fierce and cunning. Lady Lucretzia had a good deal of potential, His Excellency acknowledged, but she was still far too kind. She disliked the carnage of war and avoided battle if it was possible. A good trait in theory, but if a new age was to be born, Treize needed officers who were ruthless and relentless not benevolent and good. 

            How, then, to keep his best and brightest on track? How to help Zechs reclaim that intense, hate-driven focus he possessed as a boy? And how to instill the same bloodthirsty need for revenge in the lovely, violet-eyed songbird? It would take finesse and tact, a mind for misdirection. Treize caught himself smiling at the thought of his new game. He enjoyed his intrigues and the complexities of psychological manipulation. Not that he was flippant about his goal for humanity and the part he would play as the world's savior. On the contrary, he was deadly serious when it came to his duty to the future, which was the very reason he needed his occasional diversions. He needed the distraction. Anything to keep himself from seeing his true self. If Treize allowed himself to see what he had become, to think about what iniquitous acts he had committed in the name of peace—or at least his vision of peace—he knew his heart would rebel. His Excellency couldn't allow that, he couldn't allow himself to feel such things as regret or guilt. If he opened his eyes to see such things, then he would not be able to complete his mission. If he could not complete his mission, then it had all been for nothing. Johnny, Leia, his daughter…Treize wouldn't allow it to be for nothing. 

            A soft knock interrupted the young nobleman's thoughts. He turned as his aide opened the door and announced the arrival of Lieutenant Noin. The pretty young woman saluted formally as the aide left. Treize smiled and waved away the salute and made his way to the wet bar.

            "No need for that, Lucretzia. I was hoping to keep this informal."

            Noin nodded, smiling slightly. "Very well, sir."

            "You performed admirably today," he began, pouring a drink, "despite your mistake at the end." Treize paused, noting the slight tensing in his junior officer's posture. "I wanted to discuss your future with OZ." Treize gestured to two chairs by the chess table, indicating Noin should sit.

            "You have another temporary assignment for me, colonel?"

            Treize smiled. He had always admired Lucretzia's forthright manner. "A new assignment, yes, but whether it is temporary is up to you."

            Noin waited expectantly, but Treize wasn't in the mood to elaborate just yet. "Would you care for a match? It's been quite a while since we faced off over a chessboard."

            "Yes, it has, Excellency, far too long." 

The young woman smiled as she prepared to make the first move. Treize was suddenly caught up in the memory of their last game. Lucretzia had been a child then, and a brilliant one at that. The memory expanded to include another woman. Treize took a swig from his glass, willing away the memory and the tightness in his chest that accompanied it. Instead, he made another move and let the game progress in silence for a few moments, carefully analyzing his opponent's every move. He was impressed with her strategy, but focused on her mistakes, her weaknesses. She was being far too protective of her king. 

"It seems most of your division will be moving on soon."

"Oh?" Noin asked absently as she studied the board.

"Yes," Treize kept his voice casual as he moved his bishop, "Lieutenant Merquise has accepted a new command in space." 

Noin's reaction was much as the duke expected. She froze, eyes widening slightly, but made no other indication that the information had an impact.

"Oh?"

Treize smiled in spite himself. "Yes. I spoke to him about it just before the match and he accepted."

"Well…good for him," Noin replied calmly as she resumed play, "I'm sure he will perform admirably as well."

"Oh, I am certain he will…now, I wanted to discuss your new assignment," he paused to move another piece, "It is a bit different from your other duties, but your targeting skills will most certainly be put to good use." 

Noin simply nodded and made her next move. The game progressed for several minutes, the pieces quickly dwindling.

"There now." Treize moved a piece into position. He was three moves to checkmate. "As I was saying…"

"Checkmate." 

It was His Excellency's turn to freeze. He had been so intent on breaking down her defense of the king that he neglected to watch the rest of the board. Silly mistake on his part, and rather damaging to his ego. After the shock wore off, he looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Very impressive, Lucretzia."

"You were about to tell me of my new assignment, sir." 

Noin's tone was cool, no hint of gloating nor of the camaraderie she displayed upon first entering. Treize sat back, crossing his long legs and considered the formidable young beauty in front of him. That would be the last time he underestimated Lucretzia Noin. 

            "I'm sending you to the sharpshooter school at the Saint Petersburg base."

            "I'm to be a sniper."

            Noin sat feeling more stunned and sickened than she hoped she appeared. Sniper duty meant only one thing. Assassin. He wanted her to become an OZ hit man…or hit woman, hit person? She let her thoughts tumble along ridiculously in a desperate attempt to ignore what her heart screamed at her. No. She could kill in battle but could she learn to kill in secret? It was well known that most of OZ's snipers were women. Not only did that give the assassins a built in disguise--after all who expects that from a woman?—but it was determined by someone along the way that women had better nerves for such an occupation. Lady Une was rumored to be one of these secret assassins, a theory Noin did not doubt. The idea of becoming another Une sent a cold shiver up Noin's spine.

            The idea made her nauseous. She had never approved of OZ's covert activities, but wavered on whether or not they were truly wrong. The world of politics was one of intrigue, she had learned that much in her diplomatic training, but could the systematic murder of individuals really lead to peace? Even if she could find a way to accept the idea that assassination was a necessary tool, could she become such an instrument? Some would argue that it was no different from killing in battle. A life taken is a life taken, regardless of the circumstance. Those people would see her as a murderer regardless. 

            The lieutenant did not argue with His Excellency over his decision. She made few more comments at all before being dismissed. It was a little too much to take in just then and she decided to let it go for the time being. Noin would have plenty of time to consider whether or not she was suited to such an occupation. At that moment she didn't want to think about it. She needed time to decide what to believe. 

            Noin made her way back to the BOQ and plopped down on a comfortable couch. The day was turning out to be truly bizarre. Pushing all thoughts of her new assignment out of her head for the moment, Noin found her thoughts resting on something else Treize told her. Zechs was also leaving. Evidently he had known for all day and had yet to mention it. According to Treize, Zechs was to leave tomorrow morning and report to his new post in space. It was an open ended assignment, one that would quite probably keep him in the colonies for months, and he hadn't even hinted at the prospect. Once again, he shut her out.

            As she sat looking out a nearby window, enjoying the breeze from it's open shutters, Noin spied Zechs. He walked in, looked around a bit then caught sight of Noin. She watched him approach, hoping he intended to confess to her now, but knew he wouldn't. Instead he asked why Treize had called for her. Noin indicated that she was being sent on yet another new assignment, but avoided elaborating. She didn't really want to discuss it with anyone just yet, particularly Zechs. She was being secretive now as well, she knew, but at least she told Zechs she was leaving soon. As they chatted, he made no indication that his position had changed at all. 

            During a lull in the conversation, the two took up gazing out of the window and watched a small group of OZ recruits and two girls Noin knew to be granddaughters of the Romefellar representative they met earlier that mornint, General Noventa. They were all very animated, evidently planning a party at the Noventa estate. Normally, the idea of a stuffy Romefellar event would not appeal to Noin, but the teenagers she eavesdropped on weren't suggesting such an event. It would be formal, yes, but just for the younger members of the group. No "old geezers" as one young lady succinctly indicated. A party.

"We should go." Noin whispered, leaning toward Zechs. The young man nodded and moved to stand, but Noin put a hand on his arm to halt his progress. "No. I mean we should go to the party."            

"Are you suggesting we crash a ball?"

            "Yes," Noin replied, nodding enthusiastically.

            "I don't know…" 

            "I know it seems impulsive. I'm certain if we approached the Noventas and introduced ourselves, they would gladly extend an invitation, but I think it would be more of an adventure to just sneak in."

            "It would be rather embarrassing for two OZ lieutenants to be caught crashing a party. We could get in trouble."

            "Only if we get caught."

            "So…we just won't get caught, right?"

            "Right!"

            "Very well, we go…on one condition."

            "What?"

            "No uniforms. We sneak in as civilians."

            "You mean I have to wear a _dress_?" Noin's whisper disappeared at the thought of an uncomfortable, frilly evening gown. 

            "Yes. That's the deal. This was your idea, remember? If you want to back out…"

            "I'm not backing out of anything, pal. I'll wear a dress, but I _refuse_ to wear anything with tulle and a bow on the butt."

            "I'm holding you to that," Zechs commented wryly as he looked at his watch. "How much time does that leave us to scrounge up formals?"

            "Three hours and thirty-two minutes."

            Zechs looked up, sighing. "How do you do that?"

            Noin shrugged, "Maybe my parents were Swiss?" [1]

            So began the mad dash for tux and gown, both Zechs and Noin racing about, hoping to be ready before the other. Noin ground her teeth as she stepped into the fifth shop she tried. It wasn't going well. So far, all she had found were overblown prom gowns from Hell, or rather sluttish looking sequined things held together with spaghetti straps and good wishes. If she didn't find something in the next shop, she was going to…

            Before she could finish her own thought, Noin walked right into the perfect dress. Actually, she wasn't looking where she was going and stumbled into a mannequin wearing the perfect dress. It was a simple design, made of deep violet velvet. The sleeves were close fitting and luxuriously long, the cuff flaring out over the back of the hand. Along the scooped neckline, a random scattering of tiny delicate crystals had been sewn into the pile, almost unnoticeable until the light caught them. The same was repeated along the hemline. It had a very subtle, and to Noin, very appealing effect. She knew that the other women at the party would be draped in elaborately tailored gowns of brocaded silk or heavily sequined chiffon, but that simply was not Noin's style. She enjoyed soft, dark colors and little frippery. She was finally attended to by the shop girl who retrieved the gown in Noin's size. It fit like a glove, not too tight but following her figure in all of the right places. The selling point for Noin was the length. It stopped just at the tops of her ankles, saving her from the possibility of tripping over the hem. 

            To her delight, she found out the shop also carried matching shoes for the gown as well as undergarments and other necessary accessories. Noin accepted the shoes and a crystal hair ornament to match the dress, but turned down the jewelry which was both out of her budget and far too gaudy for her taste. She sped back to the base, hoping to go back out to find a necklace to match later, but upon arriving found she had no more time. She had considered picking up some makeup on her way as well, but she had never really liked wearing it and was not comfortable with experimenting at such a late date, so she skipped it. Showering and dressing took little time, but finding a hairstyle that she liked proved more difficult. She fussed over her hair for about an hour before finally deciding to use the crystal hair clip to hold back one side of her hair and allow the rest to hang free. 

Noin stepped back and took a good look at herself. Suddenly Lieutenant Noin of the Specials Mobile Suite Corps was Lady Lucretzia of Romefellar. For once she actually looked the part. The rich hue of the dress almost, but not quite, matched the color of her eyes, something she had not noticed in the shop. It complimented her light complexion, she mused, then blushed at her vanity. She thought of herself as an attractive person, but she honestly hadn't paid that much attention to how she looked other than to be presentably attired. As she looked at the mature young woman reflected in the glass before her, Noin found herself feeling pretty. The change in her appearance from the OZ officer to the lady in the mirror was uncanny and more than a little daunting.

Noin shook off her misgivings and started down to meet Zechs in the common hall. As she descended the staircase, Noin noted Zechs smugly leaning against the wall, fully dressed. He beat her downstairs and was evidently proud of it. Noin cast her gaze to the steps as she walked, unwilling to watch the expression on her friend's face change. She looked so very different tonight, she was certain Zechs would react. Either by laughing at how she had transformed herself into one of the courtier's of Romefellar, or he would be stunned by the fact that she looked like a girl. She didn't know which would be worse: ridicule or stunned surprise that she could actually look beautiful if she made the effort. One suggested her dress was totally inappropriate, the other that he hadn't found her all that attractive before. Reaching the bottom step, Noin smoothed at some imagined wrinkles, gathering her wits before meeting Zechs' gaze. When she did look up, she wasn't prepared for his reaction. Instead of a bemused smirk or wide-eyed shock, Zechs simply smiled. It was a warm knowing smile, pleased but not surprised. 

            "Well? Do I pass muster, sir?"

            "Of course. You always do."

            The last bit brought a blush to Noin's cheeks which she diligently tried to hide by turning to the hall mirror. 

            "I was going to buy a necklace or something, but I didn't have time. It looks a little plain." Her hand rose to her throat absently as she spoke. Zechs stepped up behind her, head tilted in consideration. An idea seemed to spring to his mind and he reached under his collar, pulling at a chain. 

            "I have an idea. Here." He removed his mother's locket from its home around his neck and unhooked the clasp. He brought it around in front of Noin "Why don't you borrow this for the night?"

            "Your mama's locket, Zechs? Are you sure?"

            "I'm sure," he affirmed quietly, fastening the clasp behind her neck. "I think it compliments your gown perfectly." 

            The couple stood like that for several minutes, gazing at their reflection. They made quite the perfect picture of young bluebloods, the image of the future Treize always expounded so. Zechs had chosen a rather old-fashioned style tuxedo with an elaborate waistcoat underneath the jacket. His platinum hair, now far past his shoulders, hung loosely down his back with a fringe shading his forehead and eyes. Noin had always thought him handsome in uniform, but that night he looked downright dazzling. It was as though he were back in his true element. The elegance of the black suit set against his pale hair and sky-blue eyes. He was perfect. As Noin silently absorbed his beauty, Zechs stepped back and slipped his mask over his head. Suddenly the moment was broken.

            "Is that really necessary?" Noin asked quietly. "You might stand out."

She wanted a half-way normal night. Just this one evening as a normal girl and boy, enjoying a nice evening. 

            "We don't know who will be there. I don't think anyone will question us." 

            Noin nodded a bit stiffly. They stood in silence for a moment, looking at their new reflection. Zechs held out his arm, his mouth curving a bit as he asked, "Shall we, Lady Noin?"

Noin curtseyed and took his arm graciously. "Of course Count Merquise."

            As they left the BOQ, Zechs paused to tell one of his junior officers where they were going, using a tone of voice that told of the hell the boy would catch if the evening was interrupted for anything other than a dire emergency. The officer nodded nervously and held the door open for the two. Zechs had called a cab to take them to the Noventas residence. It was a short drive. They might have walked, Noin pointed out, but Zechs said they might tire themselves out before they got to dance.

            Despite a hairy moment or two on the way in, the evening turned out to be as much fun as they hoped. They danced almost every dance together, occasionally taking breaks to hit the desert table and divest it of its chocolate cake. They did eventually meet the Noventa girls, who turned out to be rather pleasant people. The youngest, Noin noted with amusement, seemed particularly taken with Zechs. She was a sweet girl with large blue eyes who resembled Relena a bit. Noin could tell from Zechs' attentive manner that Sylvia reminded him of his sister as well. When the next song started, he gallantly asked the thirteen year old to dance. Noin gave him an affectionate smile and nod as he escorted the elated girl out onto the floor. She watched from a distance for a while, thoroughly enjoying how the evening progressed. She was so absorbed, Noin didn't notice a young man approach until he placed a hand on her arm and called her name.

            "Paolo? What on Earth are you doing here?"

            "Forgive me, Lucretzia. I called your headquarters and one of your team members said you would be here. I hope you don't mind?"

            "Of course I don't mind! I had no idea you were in Marseilles." 

            "I was on my way back to Livorno and I had a layover. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, but I needed to talk to you."

            The grim look on Paolo's face and his unexpected arrival alarmed Noin somewhat. "Of course. Let's go out onto the balcony." 

            Noin glanced over to the dance floor and caught a glimpse of Zechs and the youngest Noventa granddaughter, Sylvia, still spinning happily to the music. They would be occupied for a while more, so she led Paolo outside. They strolled along the balcony railing for a while in silence. Noin studied her friend closely, noting the air of solemnity that replaced his usual light-heartedness. His shoulders were hunched and, Noin noted with concern, he looked as though he hadn't slept well in a few days. 

            "My father passed away last week."

            Noin gasped in shock and gently put her arms around the young man as she whispered, "Oh, Paolo, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

            Paolo hugged her back tightly before pulling back, wiping at his eyes once. "It was rather sudden. A heart attack while he was on a business trip to Denmark. I didn't want to tell you over the phone. I wanted…needed, really, to tell you in person."

            Noin took the young man's hand and gave it a squeeze, waiting for him to continue.

            "I only have a short time before I have to get back to the airport. I'm taking his body back to Livorno."

            "When is the funeral?"  
            "In a couple of days. Can you come?"  
            "I'll be there," Noin reassured, squeezing his arm, "You're my friend, Paolo, I'll always be there for you."

            "Yes, I know. You're a very loyal person, Lucretzia. I've always admired that about you. So did my father," he added with a smile. "You know, he was convinced you and I would marry one day."

            Noin looked down. "Yes, I think most of Livorno expected that."

            "Yes. My father was always asking me when I was going to be brave enough to ask you to come home…he expected me to get married by the time I was twenty, just as he did. He was anxious for a grandchild, someone to carry on his name. I wanted to please him, of course, so I always tried to do what he expected."

            "He was proud of you, Paolo, you know that."

            "Yes, I know." He looked down, smiling wistfully and turned back to her. "Lucretzia, if I had asked, would you have stayed in Rome?"  
            "I thought about it."

            "Why didn't you then?"

            Noin took a breath, a bit puzzled as to why Paolo was talking about such things just then, but did her best to answer truthfully. "I suppose I realized that I belonged here, in the Specials, I mean. This is where my duty lies."

            "Duty is important to you."

            "Of course it is."

            "Even if it means leaving behind your own dreams?"

            "No," Noin frowned, unable to understand where the conversation was headed. "I think we are all called to do certain things with our lives. Some refer to it as a 'calling,' I suppose. Right now, my place is here and my purpose is with the military. One day, I think I will be led elsewhere, to a different kind of life, but for now, this is where I belong."

            "Do your duty and leave the rest to God?"

            "Exactly."

            "I should do what I feel called to do."

            "Yes. Always."

            Paolo smiled and mumbled, "I knew it would help to talk to you." He looked down at her, taking Noin's hands in his and smiling. "You've helped me a great deal Lucretzia."

"I'm glad. I just wish I knew what we were talking about."

"Oh, that is not important at the moment. I'm just glad I came here to talk to you tonight. I know what I should do now." 

He finished by kissing Noin's forehead affectionately. The light clack of shoes on the concrete prompted Noin to look up. Zechs was standing a few feet away, posture a bit rigid as he clenched his hands into fists. For a hideously long moment, Noin simply stared at her escort, knowing full well what was going through his mind. She glanced back to see an expectant look on Paolo's face. He, of course, had absolutely no idea as to the identity of the man in the mask and was politely waiting to be introduced. Noin took a step back, standing between the two young men.

"Paolo, I'd like you to meet my friend Zechs. Zechs this is Paolo. We grew up together in Livorno."

"I'm pleased to know you, Zechs."

Paolo smiled and held his hand out affably. Zechs did not immediately respond and for a second Noin thought he might simply walk away. Instead, he slowly took the older man's hand and shook it coolly. "A pleasure…I didn't mean to interrupt." Before anyone could respond, Zechs made an elegant bow and left.

"I'm sorry, Paolo…"

"No, please," Paolo interjected, "I am the one who has interrupted your evening. I must be going." 

Noin moved to stop him, afraid that he felt offended by Zechs' manner. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Yes. I'm glad I stopped by to talk to you, Lucretzia." Paolo smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Now, I must catch my plane."

"Please call me if you need anything."

"I will."

With that he left and Noin took off after Zechs. By the time she caught up with him, the lieutenant had managed to flag a cab.

"You just going to ditch me?"

"I thought you might prefer to be escorted home by Paolo."

They got into the cab and fell silent, mindful of the driver. The drive back to the officer's barracks was brief, but stunningly quiet. Even the driver gave up his attempt to engage the couple after a few moments and let them be. They finally pulled in front of the main building and Zechs paid the fare. Just as they were about to step out of the cab, Noin informed her companion why their old school friend had sought her out.

"His father died?" Zechs repeated gravely. 

            "Yes. He needed a friend to talk to, Zechs. That's why he was there."

"Noin…I'm…"

"What did you think? I planned to meet him there?"

            Noin didn't bother waiting for an answer. She simply turned and started up the steps to her room.

            "Wait," Zechs took a step forward as Noin turned. "I'm trying to apologize." _Again_, he silently added. Noin continued walking up the steps, but stopped at the top and turned to look at him when he shouted for her to stop. "Noin! We're not finished talking about this."

"I'm not talking to you about _anything_ unless you take off that damned mask." 

Noin stood with her arms crossed, a deadly calm in her voice. She definitely meant business. If any of her soldiers saw that look on her face they would be suitably frightened, but it only served to make Zechs angry. He ripped the offending helmet off of his head and hurled it down with such a force that it bounced off of the pavement twice. Noin didn't flinch. She simply stood staring down at him defiantly, waiting, challenging. Damn, she could be so stubborn. Zechs had the fleeting urge to just walk away and leave her standing on those steps. It would certainly accomplish something. She would be angry and hurt, not inclined to forgive him yet again, he would be free of her persistent friendship and free to concentrate on what mattered most. Vengeance.  Perhaps Treize was correct, Noin was a distraction and he was a distraction for her as well. If they could not focus on their duties—solely on their duties—then they would accomplish nothing. The Alliance would prevail and all would be lost once more. It was time to let her go, once and for all. Time and separation would do the rest. Their friendship would lull, quietly dissipating into an indifferent acquaintance, nothing more. Zechs would be an old school chum, a soldier Noin served with at one time. But at that moment, they were more. So much more. They needed—_he_ needed—to say goodbye.

His mood suddenly changed. Zechs walked slowly up the stairs to meet Noin, watching her own attitude softened and her posture relax as he approached. He finally came to rest in front of his fellow officer, on the step just below hers, which left them face-to-face. They held each other's gaze for a few moments, their eyes silently questioning and answering. Zechs took the last step, now standing over the lovely young woman who had provided a lifeline to him in his darkest hours. The woman who watched his back in a fight and kicked his butt in a duel. The only constant in his life since the age of five. He moved forward a step, causing Noin to back up, but only a step as her back met with the wall to the side of the front entrance. Zechs stood there, staring down at her, enjoying having her so close and the discomfort it caused in his companion. He was about to let Noin go forever, but tonight she was still part of him, a part that no one could take away until _he_ was ready to let go--not OZ, not Treize, not even perfect, good-boy Paolo--and Zechs wanted to prove that. 

"I thought you wanted to talk."

Noin's quiet voice broke through the young man's thoughts, bringing a light smile to his lips. "We are," Zechs murmured, leaning forward to place one hand against the wall behind Noin. They took up their staring match once more, soft puffs of breath the only sound disturbing the space between them. The lieutenant leaned forward again, this time placing his other hand to the wall, arms now on either side of the young woman before him. Zechs was amazed how just being near Noin could make his heart beat faster and his breath irregular. She had that affect on men in general. He knew because he watched. 

"What is Paolo to you, Noin?"

There it was. The question she had been dreading, though Noin didn't really feel as though she should. It wasn't as though she did anything wrong. Still, when she thought of her evenings with Paolo, she could not help feeling as though Zechs would be hurt to find out. Noin ultimately answered with the simple truth.

"We're friends."

"So are we." 

Zechs pressed forward, just a fraction, his body language hinting to a deeper meaning behind his spoken words. A light color rose to Noin's delicate features, but she did not look away, instead returning the man's gaze relentlessly. As his clear eyes bore into her own, Noin became increasingly uncomfortable. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly and she glanced away for a split second before capturing his pale blue eyes once more. Noin tried to steady her breathing before answering again.

"We went out a few times when I was stationed in Rome…I told you that, remember?"

"No. I believe you said you were 'hanging out' with him."

"Same thing."

"Is it?"

She was a little irritated by his prodding and refused to speak. His voice took on a hint of teasing, but also the merest hint of anger. 

"Did you let him hold your hand?"

Noin narrowed her eyes and simply replied, "Yes," hoping to irritate him with her honesty.

Zechs leaned in a bit closer. "Did you let him put his arms around you?"

"Yes."

"Did you let him kiss you?"

His voice remained cool and unemotional as he leaned forward a little more, successfully causing a full blush to form on Noin's face. Her eyes dropped down to the young man's lips as she answered, "Yes."

"How?"

She stared at his mouth, too entranced to respond.

"Show me," Zechs insisted, his lips almost, but not quite, brushing hers. To Noin's consternation, she trembled slightly at the near contact. He was playing a game, she could feel that, a duel of sorts, and he was winning. He had her pinned to the wall, yet they were not touching. His presence, his closeness was enough to root her to the spot and he knew it. Zechs knew perfectly well what he was doing and that Noin had no idea how to respond. Checkmate. 

Where the hell did he learn that? Was that how Treize behaved with women, did Johnny?  Six years of observing the Kushrenada brothers evidently taught Zechs something. Noin wrenched her eyes away from his mouth and looked up into his eyes, searching for some reason to shove him on his ass again. She expected some glint of mocking or perhaps the look of triumph he wore when he bested her in some competition. Instead she saw uncertainty and the suggestion of something else. Fear? Not exactly. More like the realization that he was about to cross line and there would be no turning back. 

The game suddenly ceased. Noin wrapped her arms around the young man's waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. She expected a hesitant, possibly negative response, but instead Zechs embraced her in return. His arms held her firmly, but still with a tenderness he rarely showed. Noin felt him rest his chin atop her head, his tense chest muscles relaxing considerably as Zechs began to play with her hair. They stood there in a silent embrace for a long time, Noin slowly rubbing his back, Zechs methodically stoking her hair. The young woman allowed her eyelids to flutter shut as a calm warmth fell upon her. She always got sleepy when someone played with her hair. She was almost eighteen years old and it still worked. 

Again, all they had was confusion. He drew her in yet pushed her away. Noin tried to simply enjoy the new truce between them, but a nagging thought continually invaded her comfortable haze. He still didn't mention his new orders. All night Noin tried to convince herself that Zechs didn't say anything because he had changed his mind and refused the post, but she knew better. His ambitions would not permit such a thing. He was being sent to command the best troops in OZ. It was a position of prestige, ultimately a stepping-stone in his ascent in Romefellar and therefore the best way to position himself for a brilliant revenge. But there were stumbling blocks to bypass, obstacles to his goal that the young man had struggled with since he was very young. Friendship, kindness, compassion. Everything they once offered one another without reservation, everything she held dear. Zechs sought to purge himself of those qualities.  He saw her as a weakness even as she saw him as a source of strength.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye, were you?" Noin whispered the question against his chest, almost hoping he did not hear.

The young man tensed slightly, but said nothing. It wasn't necessary. Noin could feel what he was doing. Zechs was trying to let her go. If he simply left without a word, it would make everything much easier. He could push her away as he had once before. He had failed then and she wasn't about to let him succeed now, at least not completely. Parting would be difficult, but they had been separated before, under much more trying circumstances and yet they still managed to find their way back. Noin believed, trusted deep in her heart, that it would always be so. Yes, their duty owned them at that moment, but not forever. One day, revenge would be complete and a new day would dawn. 

            The young woman tilted her head up, raising herself up on her toes to align her face with his. She kissed Zechs, delicately offering him a last bit of warmth before he flung himself into the cold void of space, into the bitter arms of hate.  He responded gently, accepting her farewell and returning it in kind. Noin made a fist in the fabric of his shirt as Zechs coaxed her lips apart. He hesitated, again waiting for her approval just as he has asked permission for their first kiss. He could be brash and impulsive, occasionally annoying, but beyond all of that, he was a gentleman. A frustratingly honorable gentleman who would not take the upper hand in such a situation unless she allowed. So there they stood, open mouths pressed together, but neither willing to push forward. Noin suddenly felt very childish and naïve. She had never kissed anyone in that way and was embarrassingly unsure as to how to continue. The young woman tilted her head a bit more, unclenching her fists and sliding her hands up his back, hoping Zechs would get the idea and make the next move. 

            Zechs cradled the back of the young woman's head, rubbing his fingers against her scalp while his free hand slid down to her waist, carefully pressing her body to his.  An interminable pause ensued before Noin finally felt the warm tip of the young man's tongue lightly scrape against her teeth and flick against her own. After a shy exploration, the two settled into the kiss, allowing instinct to take over. There was an undeniable passion to the kiss, yet also a timidity and restraint as neither was willing to let go completely. Noin's mind blanked, only her physical senses remaining alert as she committed the taste and feel of Zechs Merquise to memory. It would be all she had of him for months at least, possibly longer, and she would have only this to remember until they met again. 

Let Zechs think this was a last goodbye. She knew better.

=================== End Chapter 9 =====================

Geez….that last bit came out like a romance novel [shudder]. Sorry. I hope, though, the mushiness makes up for the kiss with Paolo. The part about Noin going to sniper training is a little abrupt, I know, but I needed to introduce the idea in this chapter. I couldn't think of a better way, so sorry if it's bad or out of place. 

Mwah!! Thanks for the lovely reviews! I appreciate you guys!!

Next chapter: Noin's past comes back to haunt her and she struggles with the idea of becoming an OZ assassin. Chapter 11 will pick up with the series [finally!].

_Disclaimer:_ [grrrrrrr] I don't own Gundam Wing. This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Satisfied? [ ^  ß unhappy Zechs waiting to pounce on nasty lawyer-people who might find a way to halt fanfiction. After all, fanfics are the only place Zechs sees any action with Noin. Zechs likes fanfics. He likes them a _lot_.] 

  


* * *

[1] I took this from a TV show, but I don't remember which one. I just remember those two lines of dialogue and thinking it was incredibly funny. Hey, I'm a fanfic author. I live to plagerise.


	10. In the Paths of Our Fathers

**AN: **The beginning is another memory/dream like those Noin has had over the course of _The Lilac Princess_ & _Still Grows the Lilac_. It's supposed to be in italics, but I've had trouble with the formatting as I upload, so the dream sequence is marked with asterisks (*) just in case. Caro=dear (Italian), Aisai=beloved (Japanese). 

**Still Grows the Lilac**

Part II of The Lilac Princess

_Chapter 10_

_In the Paths of Our Fathers_

_     ***  "Il mare mi mette inquietudine."_

_"Yes, my love, the sea makes me restless, too."_

_"Then why, do you suppose, we spend so much time out here staring at it?"_

Deep, sonorous laughter erupted from the man by her side, the sound drifting away with the ocean breeze. It was a lovely day, despite the autumn chill, which lent the salt air a crispness that she found invigorating. Despite the weather, she had chosen to go without her shoes and reveled in the feeling of damp, cool sand between her toes. The temperature began to fall as the sun met the horizon and steadily sank beneath. The day would have been absolutely perfect had it not been the last they were to spend together for some time. As the sky darkened and the color drained from the view, the couple began walking back towards a small house nestled among the sand and rocks. The man reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze as they topped the small incline and reached the home's drive. 

_"When will you return, caro?"_

_"Soon, aisai, soon..."_

_The last words fade into the sound of the wind, echoing slightly before disappearing completely. Suddenly the simple domestic scene morphed into a darkened maze of rooms, people moving about and speaking with muted voices. Activity surrounded her, though she could only sense it as it was too dark to see. The girl, however, felt stiff and cold. She couldn't move, couldn't see, and couldn't speak. Even with the bustle around her she felt alone. A familiar loneliness swelled in her heart as the other people moved about, oblivious to her presence. Soon, though, she felt something change. A voice speaking to her, distant and quiet, but familiar._

_"Are you there?" _

_"I thought you weren't coming back."_

_"Me, too. They kept me longer this time."_

_"Did it...did it hurt again?"_

_"Yes." _

_  
_

_The boy's reply was very faint, weakened by the memory of pain. She wanted to say something to make the boy feel better, but she was interrupted by a sudden scurry of activity. People moved about them, some stopping nearby and talking about what was to be done about them, some making loud noises as they rushed past. A man stopped and she felt herself being moved. The man spoke quickly, yet in a low, almost soothing voice. Unlike the others, the man was speaking directly to her and then to the boy. She strained to make out what he was saying but most was lost to her. It sounded as though he were speaking through something, a glass or door perhaps, and his words were muffled. She tried to speak to him, to ask him to talk louder but they were moving again. The voices around her got louder, but more incoherent.  The loud roar of machinery suddenly sprang up. Screams, popping sounds, loud crashing noises. One solitary scream and then the sound of glass shattering. She was falling...falling..._***

Lucretzia Noin woke with a start, her dream momentarily muddling her thoughts. After several moments, Noin remembered where she was, who she was, and the circumstances that brought her back to her childhood home. More precisely, the sofa in the front room of Signore Lipari's house in Livorno, Italy. 

True to her word, Noin had arranged to attend the funeral of Paolo's father, but had decided to stay a little longer. She was being sent to sniper training school in St. Petersburg, but was not required to report for several weeks. Still a little uncertain about her new assignment, Noin decided to make use of a massive accumulation of leave time and remain in Livorno until then. The Lipari family had generously offered her a place to stay while she was visiting and the young woman was thrilled to stay in the house she once shared with her foster grandmother and her best friend. At least she had been thrilled at first. 

Over the few weeks she stayed in Livorno, Noin's dreams had returned. Being so near the sea for such an extended period of time usually had that affect on her. Initially, there were only a few snippets of half‑remembered images, but the longer she stayed in Livorno, the more time she spent at the shore, the more defined and troubling the dreams became. The dreams always seemed to have two parts. The beginning of the dream consisted mainly of small, eventless moments in the lives of the same man and woman. She could never see their faces, just the vague impression of their surroundings. The beach, primarily, at sunrise, sunset, a starlit sky in winter. __

_"When will you return? Soon..."_

It always ended with the same conversation. As the dream became more frequent, Noin tried to concentrate on the couple, to see something beyond the vague outline of two adults. Sometimes she could almost make out the man's eyes‑‑deep blue, slightly almond shaped‑-but just as she thought a clear image might emerge, the scene abruptly changed. 

The second half of the dream was decidedly more disturbing. She was wrapped in darkness, floating, surrounded by people who could not hear her. The boy was there, almost always, but they were separated at some point and the entire dream came to a crashing halt with a scream and the sound of glass breaking. The sensation of falling was usually the last thing Noin felt before she was wrenched back to consciousness. Thankfully she did not scream when she awoke, so the Lipari's had no idea that her sleep was troubled. 

In the daylight, Noin pretended everything was fine, that she was enjoying her vacation despite the tragic circumstances that brought her home. She spent most of her time with Paolo, helping him take care of the various and sundry tasks that unfortunately followed a loved one's death. His mother had passed away when he was much younger, so there was no one left to live in their grand house or to take charge of its contents. Paolo decided to close the house and donate it to the local church. He kept family photos and some items of sentimental value, but by and large, his family's many antiques and fine art were given to his neighbors or sold and the proceeds given to charity. 

  


His father's share of the business was signed over to his partner of twenty years, which surprised Noin a great deal. It was always assumed that Paolo would take his father's place one day. True, his father's death had been unexpected but the eventuality had been planned for. The young woman remembered the conversation she had with her longtime friend at the Noventa's ball. He had asked her advice about duty versus calling. Now, she understood what he was trying to say. Most of it anyway. Noin had the feeling Paolo was deciding more than just whether or not to follow in his father's footsteps. 

She got the answer to her question the day before she was scheduled to leave for St. Petersburg. Paolo had been rather stoic all day, speaking little, being polite but not as animated. He was still mourning his father's death and had his good days as wells as bad. Today was a bad day. It broke Noin's heart to see her friend in such pain, but what worried her more was the contemplative air about the young man. He was still trying to come to a decision and it was obvious to Noin, if no one else, that what ever he was trying to decide would affect Paolo's life dramatically. 

They sat on the retaining wall that led to the old fort where the children of Livorno had played for centuries. Several youngsters were scurrying about, all caught up in the imaginings of childhood that adults never seemed to understand. The group finally ran off down the beach, laughing joyfully and leaving the two young adults alone. Noin looked over at Paolo's hunched form. 

"Paolo?"

The young man looked up, staring intently at a very worried Noin before smiling sadly and taking her hand. 

"Lucretzia, do you remember the conversation we had the night I told you about my father?"

"Yes, of course." 

She looked at him closely as Paolo cast his eyes down, absently rubbing the back of her hand as he began to speak again. 

"You didn't understand it."

"Not really, no...but if you want to talk again..."

"I do," he interrupted quickly, "but I need to say something first."

"All right." Noin was beginning to feel a little uneasy, but she remained silent and gave her friend the chance to voice his thoughts in his own time.

"I enjoyed our time in Rome very much, you know. It was nice to be able to see you almost every day. I was always fond of you, but I grew to care for you very much in those few months."

"Me, too," Noin began quietly. She intended to continue, to express how much she cared for Paolo as a friend, but he once again interrupted.

"You know, I was serious...about almost asking you to stay. It was something I thought of a great deal. The idea that you and I would..." he paused and sighed, smiling faintly as he looked up at the young woman next to him. Noin was beginning to feel rather nervous. She was beginning to feel as though a question were coming next. A very important, life-changing question. One that she was not prepared for. 

A year ago, such a question might have been welcomed. Not that she would have said yes, necessarily, but it would have been welcomed just the same, but she had changed so much since then. She no longer felt grounded. She lacked direction. Most importantly, her feelings for Zechs had deepened considerably since then. 

"Lucretzia?"

The young woman jerked at Paolo's concerned voice, "I'm sorry, go on."

  


"I was saying I have thought a great deal about callings and duty in the past few weeks and I think I know the difference now...and there _is_ a very great difference..."

"Paolo...what are you trying to say?"

He smiled and draped an arm around Noin, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I'm trying to say that I've made an important decision about my life and you are the first one to hear it...Lucretzia, I've decided to study for the priesthood."

Noin blinked. She didn't gasp, she didn't speak. She just blinked.

"Lucretzia? I'm sorry...I didn't think it would startle you so much..."

"It's just that I thought you were going to...that you were..."

"You thought I was going to ask you to marry me."

Noin simply nodded, blushing at her presumption.

"I thought about it. That's what I was trying so hard to decide. I've always felt this pull to...I'm not certain I can say exactly...that I was being called, as you would say, but at the same time I thought I had a duty to my family‑‑to my father-‑to carry on the family name....to marry, to have children, to carry on in his footsteps. When you and I were dating, I felt that all of those things were what I wanted and I wanted them with _you_, but I realize now that I was not meant for that life any more than you were meant to be a housewife." 

Noin stared at him a few moments more as his revelation sank in. A priest. That was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. She smiled and caught Paolo in a tight hug. Paolo obviously was not expecting her warm response and let out a squeak of surprise. Noin laughed as she pulled away.

"A priest, huh? Hearts are breaking all over Livorno, you know that don't you?"

"I'm more concerned about the heart in front of me." 

Paolo's earnest concern touched Noin. He was such a kind young man, full of such wonderful compassion. She was surprised it hadn't occurred to her sooner. Paolo would make a perfect priest, even if he was a hunk. At least there would be no shortage of young girls attending his services. She smiled and patted his cheek.

"This heart is just fine, my dear friend. I'm happy for you, Paolo."

The young man wrapped her in a warm embrace and whispered, "It was a close call you know. You are the only person who could have changed my mind about this."

"I'm glad you found your path."

"So am I." He pulled away and stood, pulling Noin to her feet and escorting her back down the beach. "I know you will find what you are looking for too, Lucretzia. You have a good heart, you just have to trust your instincts."

Noin laughed lightly. "Someone else told me that a long time ago...I suppose I should work on that."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

            The Commander walked along the catwalk towards the open target range below. The St. Petersburg base housed one of the most detailed and difficult sniper training ranges in the world. Within the vast warehouses located along the complex, were recreations of every conceivable environment from a suburban street to an inner city slum, each vignette designed to mimic any possible distraction. Sniper training was top secret, the candidates identified by rank and serial number only, no names. Even the instructors were referred to by rank only.  The best assassins in OZ were trained at that base and their record of success spoke of the quality of training. 

            The staff was divided into three sections. The first was assigned to train very young candidates, recruited from the Specials by the age of twelve. The second group of instructors taught advanced technique to civilian recruits directly from Romefellar and the third group—commanded by the Commander—trained line officers who were reassigned to his division. Aside from teaching the most advanced candidates, the Commander was in charge of the assignment of graduates and served as their contact for new missions. The day before, he sent off a new crop of charming, skilled shootists into the world. Today, he began training a new batch. 

             The Commander came to a stop above his three new trainees and their supervisor, Lieutenant Colonel Une. No, he reminded himself, here she was just  Colonel. The young officer was briefing the new applicants on the finer points of their little "school." Two looked fascinated but the third looked rather annoyed. Her back turned at the moment, but the Commander could tell by her posture that she was unhappy by either her new job or her new teacher. He suspected the latter. Une finally decided to take the three on a tour of the first firing range and they turned to follow. It was then that the Commander got his first glimpse of the young woman.

Raven hair, violet eyes, aristocratic nose. It was definitely her. It had been many years since the Commander had last seen the girl, but there was no mistaking who she was. The only one not accounted for. The others had all died or at least been recovered. All except one girl. She had grown considerably, her hair was too short and she was quite a bit thinner than he expected her to be, but there she was. She had been given up for dead, but deep down, he had never been able to accept that. He always held out the hope that, she, if no one else, had survived the incident near the Cinq border. 

  


It was all the Commander could do not to gasp at the discovery. Thankfully the group was walking below and had not noticed him. The man had enough time to get over the shock of seeing the girl again before he joined them. He approached them cautiously being careful to keep his expression taut and his voice even. He made a concerted effort not to stare at the girl, for fear of drawing attention to either of them, but it was difficult. Twelve years was a long time. 

She had no idea who he was of course. There was no way she could know that he had seen her when she was young, that it was he had witnessed the incident that separated her from the others. He doubted she had any memory of that time what so ever, but particularly of him or his colleagues. The Commander was quite fascinated, a rare emotion for him. She had spent twelve years alone, yet here she was under his tutelage. The irony was too much even for his highly developed sense of humor.

The course lasted six weeks. Six weeks of twelve hour training sessions, playing and replaying literally hundreds of scenarios. Rooftops, alleyways, churches, balconies and crowds. The new candidates worked through every situation the Commander could think of and each passed with flying colors. The lieutenant in particular had a remarkable eye. She broke the record for distance accuracy, a fact that seemed to displease the former record holder, Colonel Une. 

The session finally reached its conclusion and all that remained was the assignment of codenames and the first task to be set. Each young woman received her name and orders privately from the Commander, the times, dates and objectives varying from agent to agent. Though she didn't know it, the lieutenant was the first scheduled to complete her task. Her target, General Diego O'Neguil, a high-ranking Alliance official. She received her orders verbally and the Commander noted a subtle change in the girl's expression before she saluted and left. It was fleeting, passing over her face too quickly for him to make sense of it, but the man decided to let it slide…for the moment. Instead, he sent her on her way with a stiff salute.  

Later that night, after the new graduates were safely retired for the night, the Commander sat at the computer in his quarters and made a call. The screen remained blank for several moments at the introductory message made its way through the dense atmosphere of earth, through the blackness of space and arrived at its final destination, L1. The static cleared, the screen flickered and finally an image emerged. The Commander felt himself stiffen at the sight, as he always did. Never mind that he had known the doctor for twenty years. The sight of that prosthetic claw, the mechanical eyes...the Commander could not seem to grow accustomed to the doctor's appearance in spite of the fact that the Commander had looked little better when they first met.

"Commander," the old man croaked, "you are a little late reporting in tonight."

"My apologies, doctor. It's been a busy day."

"Really? Does that mean we have any hopeful candidates?"

The Commander hesitated, his thoughts naturally turning to a certain young lady, but decided it would not be to his benefit to reveal her existence to the doctor. Not just yet, in any case. Besides which, he was supposed to be looking for suitable candidates among the new recruits, preferably those under the age of 12, not trying to locate the missing ones.

"No," the Commander replied evenly, "no new candidates for the program."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

General Diego O'Neguil. 

The Commander continued to speak, but Noin all but tuned him out after hearing the details of her objective. What a word. Objective. It made it sound like she was playing chess or trying to solve a complex mathematical problem. It sounded so normal and bland. Perhaps that was why they used words like "shootist" and "objective." Blowing a hole through someone from a comfortable distance just didn't sound as professional as "neutralize." Noin decided to set that thought aside for the moment and turned her attention back to the Commander. 

Over her six weeks training, she had caught the man staring at her a few times. At first, she thought he might have taken an interest in her on an unprofessional level, but she realized immediately that the look he gave her was not untoward. Rather, he seemed to be studying her. Perhaps, she reasoned, he was simply impressed with her performance. She had always been a good shot, it was one of the areas in which she excelled. Even Zechs couldn't match her at a target range. She had the gnawing feeling, though that the Commander's interest reached beyond that. The idea that she might be recruited to some assignment more harrowing than sniper made her blood run cold. Noin had yet to decide whether or not she could actually go through with her present assignment, let alone move on to anything more nefarious. 

The Commander dismissed Noin and she started for her quarters. Once she was clear of his view, Noin stopped and watched the Commander through the plexi window to his office. It was her turn to study him. He was obviously a seasoned officer, a member of Romefellar by the looks of his regalia, but she had no idea as to his identity. In the past six weeks, the Commander had drilled she and her two classmates on a variety of  techniques and skills necessary to become a successful sniper. Observation was the most important ability. As she stood watching the Commander, Noin put every lesson to good use. 

He was in his late forties, she surmised, but it was difficult to tell. His closely-cropped hair was almost completely white, showing only hints of its former brown hue. His posture was straight and he was in impressive shape, but his face did show the signs of middle age. The latter observation wasn't necessarily completely accurate. Walking behind the man during a previous lesson, Noin had noted several thin scars behind the Commander's ears, a sure sign of cosmetic surgery. Whether that surgery was to correct some deformity or simply to change his appearance was impossible to tell, but his features had been altered, that much was certain. His eyes troubled the young woman the most. They were an odd shade of brown, too dark. It occurred to her that the Commander might wear colored contacts. It would explain the unnatural shade and it also made sense if one assumed the man was trying to alter his appearance for some reason. Of course, his life was about deception, so it made sense that he might alter his appearance regularly. 

The mystery of the Commander was put aside, however, as Noin's assignment took precedence in her troubled mind. She dressed in civilian clothes, a sweater set and plain jeans with sneakers. Noin arrived at her destination at precisely the proper time and immediately made her way to the roof of a small office building overlooking a nearby park. The General was to speak that day, extol the virtues of Alliance domination. Order out of chaos and all that rot. 

No one questioned the young woman as she casually strolled through the crowd and started up the stairwell. To the casual observer the lieutenant appeared to be a college student. Adding to the affect, she carried a large gym bag to conceal the dismantled sniper rifle she was to use to fulfill her first assignment. The weapon she would use to commit her first true murder. Assassination, neutralize, sanitize. The common euphemisms played across her mind in a constant stream as she took up position. They all meant the same thing. Murder. She had killed in battle, but that was different somehow. More honorable, if death in any form could be called honorable. This was a calculated, well-planned murder. 

As Noin looked through her scope at the man who was responsible for the death of so many innocents, her mind began to wander. She had a perfect shot, could complete the mission and leave within a few minutes, but she could not seem to concentrate on the task at hand. Perhaps O'Neguil deserved to die. Hadn't she prayed for as much when she first joined OZ? That all of the evil men responsible for the deaths of her friends be made to pay? This was her chance to deliver justice. She would be the avenging angel of Cinq. She would draw blood for Katrina, the king, Captain Damon…

            The thought of Damon made Noin close her eyes in shame. What would he think of her now? He had died to protect the Peacecrafts. He sacrificed himself readily without taking the lives of his enemies. Not one single Alliance soldier died by his hands. Noin opened her eyes, a sudden cold anger spreading through her body. The Alliance had no qualms about slaughtering an unarmed man. They had no sense of honor, no creeds other than to control through fear. Perhaps it was time they tasted some terror themselves.

Three shots rang out. Confusion ensued. Noin calmly dismantled her weapon and packed it in the gym bag she carried. She exited the room quickly, but strolled down the hall leisurely, blending in with other patrons and slipping outside undetected. As she stepped out onto the street, she was met with a crush of people all looking towards the black cars speeding past, escorted by a line of Alliance military transports. As the middle car passed, Noin caught a glimpse of the occupants. 

Among his advisors and other lap-dogs sat O'Neguil, looking incredibly furious. His uniform cap was nowhere to be found. The general probably didn't bother to notice where it fell after Noin shot it off his head, not that he had time to retrieve it anyway. After all, the first shot was quickly followed by two subsequent bullets burning through each of the general's elaborate gold epaulettes. It was a statement, vindictive perhaps, but effective. Noin shot the Alliance insignia and the symbol of the General's high rank right off his body, but left the bloated bastard perfectly unharmed. He was still alive, but when the shock wore off, his humiliation would be worth the risk she took in letting him live.

She could have killed him, taken revenge for Cinq, for Katrina, for Damon, but she didn't. Killing him in such a cowardly manner only brought her down to his level and she would never allow herself to become like General O'Neguil. Someday she would have the chance to defeat him in an honest battle. For now, it was enough to let him know that he was vulnerable, that she could get him any time she liked. She wondered how well he would sleep after _that_. 

            As Noin headed bact to St.Petersburg to face a reprimand, she found herself feeling eerily calm. She just kicked the hell out of her career, ruined her chances for ever being allowed to pilot again, yet she was not as upset as she expected. Life was full of choices and consequences, she decided. The key was to make the choice you could live with and be willing to accept the consequences. Noin chose to keep her soul. If that meant trading her career, so be it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Commander left orders that he was to be informed the moment that "Themis" returned to the training facility. When he received word, the Commander followed the young woman to the gym, but chose not to disturb her quite yet. Instead, he stood in the shadows and watched as she pummeled the poor punching bag in front of her. It was already common knowledge that she had failed in her mission. Even as she boarded the plane to return to St. Petersburg, news of the unsuccessful attempt on the Alliance Commander's life had hit the news. He knew, as the media did not, that the attempted hit was not a failure so much as a deliberate miss. She could have made that shot in her sleep. The girl simply chose not to become what OZ wanted—an emotionless killer. 

The Commander smiled to himself. Themis. Her code name amused him somewhat, not for the word itself but because she had been assigned a code name in the first place. After all, they had given an alias to a woman who was already known by an alias, but he was the only one who got the joke. Of course no one else, including perhaps the girl herself, knew that "Lucretzia Noin" was not the girl's true name. She had no name. 

The lieutenant had been unable to bring herself to perform her duties. Her punishment was still uncertain, but the Commander was certain it would be severe if Une had anything to say about it. Aneke Une, better known to him by her code name, Gaia. Their first successful graduate. She had been a failure in the eyes of some, but for the most part her ability to completely cut off her emotions and perform her duties without hesitation was well worth the side effects of her early training. True, her softer persona did occasionally make problems with her more militaristic side, but those episodes were few and far between. Hardly worth noting. 

  


Unfortunately, it was OZ that would benefit from Une's success. The Commander infiltrated Romefellar and the Specials specifically to siphon off suitable candidates for the doctor. They had their own plans for the future and creating a secret army was the keystone to that plan. Unlike the Alliance or OZ, their army did not depend on number but rather skill. A handful of well-trained individuals sent out at the proper time to destroy the proper targets. Knock over the right piece and the whole row of dominoes would fall. It was a good plan, one that he indorsed, but it also struck him as cruel. A whole generation of young people raised to know nothing but battle and the need to follow orders. No laughter, no love, just unquestioning obedience. 

Not all of their subjects would end up enduring such a fate. That aunt of Une's had been far too clingy to allow the possibility for Une to be removed and used as his group originally intended. She was a skilled assassin, but Une had been raised in love and this taint of emotion affected the young woman's sense of honor and duty. Beyond the cold, ruthless soldier lay a sense of morality. She was with OZ because she was a true believer, not because it was expected. It had been quite a feat for OZ, convincing the old baroness to allow the young girl to serve in the military branch of Romefellar, but then again Letitia had no political motivation. She simply wanted to hold on to that small part of her sister that lived on in Aneke. OZ, Alliance, whoever...none of that mattered to Letitia now that she had a family again. In the end, Aneke Une was lost to them.  

And so, it would seem, was Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin. As the Commander stood in the shadows and watched the girl, he felt an upswell of pride, though he did not have the right. She became an honorable person all on her own, she owed her character to no one but herself. Still, it was gratifying in some way to know that the girl had escaped the life she was meant to lead and managed to live by her own rules. He could not change the past, but he could be of use to her now. He stepped into the office area of the gym and placed a call to Lake Victoria Academy. The girl would need a place to go. She certainly would not be allowed to continue her former duties, but perhaps she would consider a new career. She was bright, eager and well-liked. All good qualities found in the best instructors. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


"Dismissed, lieutenant!"

Noin turned calmly on her heal and left a very furious Lady Une to her own curses. "That went well," the lieuteant commented to herself sarcastically as she returned to her quarters. Noin knew Une would be the one to ball her out after her botched mission and had been well prepared. The young officer had endured dozens of such dressing-downs in her cadet days and expected no less from Lady than a royal cussing. Extra points for the rude gestures. Overall an A+ for effort and quality browbeating.  Nice to know the Lady had not lost her touch. 

Nor had she lost that wicked backhand. Noin rubbed her cheek, amazed that she had been able to hold her own temper when the colonel struck. Another time and another place, Noin decided. Today she had barely managed to keep her soul out of Hell. Getting bitch-slapped by Une didn't seem so bad, but she was rather wound up. She wasn't angry exactly, definitely not afraid of Une, but she was just…_something_. She needed to move, to release some pent up energy. Noin made a quick stop at her quarters then headed for the gym. Maybe a few rounds with the punching bag would help take her mind off of her impending banishment. 

Noin's punishment was to be an insignificant desk job at an insignificant administration post at an insignificant base somewhere south of nowhere.  It was the OZ equivalent of purgatory. Remove file from drawer, stamp with red ink, place file in new drawer. Repeat. Permanent limbo with only one way out. Quit OZ all together. Was that a real option? Noin wasn't certain, but she knew without doubt that she could not spend the rest of her life pushing papers from one desk to the other. One thing was certain. She would never be allowed in battle again. She ruined her only chance to be part of the liberation, to make a real difference in the world all because she didn't have the guts to shoot some child murderer.

Well, what to do then? She once again entertained the thought of leaving the military, but to what end? Noin realized now that she had no place to go. When she was twelve that didn't matter, or more correctly, she believed in the possibility that there was a place for her somewhere if she was patient enough to wait for it. Such a place did not exist for her. There was nowhere to go and she felt like a sap for letting herself think otherwise for so long. Noin had no purpose. That was the worst part. She had believed in OZ, in Treize and his plan for the salvation of the world, perhaps she still did to an extent, but she would not sacrifice her own soul to be part of that. Maybe it was necessary for people like Une and the other assassins to exist. Maybe their place in Treize's schemes was crucial to the liberation of the world, but Noin could not bring herself to be part of something so morally repugnant. The ends do not justify the means. Might does not make right. A benevolent government built on blood and duplicity could not be truly peaceful. 

 "Take that Uney Buns," Noin grunted as she delivered another roundhouse kick to the sawdust filled bag hanging in front of her. It was almost one o'clock in the morning, but she was still in the gym trying to work out some frustration. It hadn't done much good at first until she got the idea to pretend the bag was Lady Une. Punching and kicking that bag suddenly became very fulfilling. After about a half hour, she became aware of another presence in the gym. She was being watched. 

Noin spun around, fists raised and prepared to confront her audience. Upon seeing her peeping-tom, Noin dropped her fists.

"Commander?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Themis, but I wanted to make certain you were all right."

"I failed. I'm being kicked into Admin Hell. Yeah, I'm just peachy, sir."

The Commander smiled faintly at the girl's uncharacteristic show of disrespect, but did not comment on it. "Then you have decided not to pursue this avenue within OZ."

"Chose is the wrong word…yeah, you're right…I guess you could say I chose not to become an assassin…and please stop calling me Themis."

The Commander nodded. "So what will you do now?"

The lieutenant laughed wryly, "I suppose I'll wither in a file room somewhere or…"

"Or quit."

The young woman looked up at him. "You think I should be kicked out."

"On the contrary. I think you still have a great deal to offer OZ, lieutenant. As a teacher."

"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Is that what you're saying?"

"More like, those who can, make better teachers. I called the commandant at Lake Victoria Academy a little while ago and he informed me of a new position. What do you say to becoming an instructor at LVA?"

There was a long pause, during which time, the girl's eyes narrowed and her jaw set suspiciously. "Why are you helping me?" 

The question was asked rather abruptly as well as with some measure of annoyance and mistrust. She stood there with her taped hands firmly planted on her hips, feet apart and body rigid. Defiance oozed from every pore. She had been pulled around on strings once too often and she had enough. The man felt a sudden resurgence of pride as he regarded the girl. Ironic, he thought, considering she turned out to be the exact opposite of what was intended. She was supposed to be cold, ruthless and unprincipled. No pesky ideals tainting her mind, only the desire to follow orders as efficiently as possible, but here the girl stood, all moral outrage and honorable intent. She was as noble as...

The Commander stopped himself before he completed the thought. Thinking of the past in such a way did him no good so he decided to let it go. The present was what mattered and at that moment, he had an angry young woman staring him down. One wrong answer from him and the girl would be lost to him forever.  

"I wouldn't say I'm helping you, lieutenant, so much as I'm helping the future. OZ needs brave young soldiers, yes, but those soldiers need to be the best at what they do. Fanatic devotion to an ideal has its place, but if the soldiers can't fight, then we have no chance." 

Noin still regarded him suspiciously. The Commander smiled wryly at the girl's reaction. He would expect no less. If she accepted his help too quickly, it would have been quite disappointing.

  


"I have my eye on you, Lucretzia Noin. I think by the time this macabre play has ended and the players have left the stage, it will be left to you and those like you to usher in a new era." The Commander turned and began walking away as he concluded. "The arrangements have been made. You are to report to Lake Victoria in two days. If you decided not to take me up on my offer, then all you need do is submit your resignation. No one will question you if you decide to leave." With that, he was gone, leaving a suspicious and confused Noin to stare after him. 

  


A teacher. It wasn't a new thought to the young woman, but one she reserved for the distant future. She had put such thoughts on hold most of her life, waiting patiently for her duties to be met so that she might be allowed to begin again. She thought of this part of her life as necessary, but not the sum total of her existence. She was here to fight for something better, to help create a safe world for the future. A world in which she could live as she wanted, love as she needed and give as much as she felt. 

The lieutenant decided to take the Commander up on his offer, at least until she had time to think. She returned to her quarters and packed her few possessions. There was little to take. Noin made it a habit to travel light, a habit she had first picked up while living in the refugee camps, but there were those few precious things that accompanied her everywhere. Most of them fit into a small, beautifully carved box. The hinges showed signs of repair, there was a thin crack in the top, but it was as lovely to Noin as the first day Mrs. Katrina gave it to her. 

  


The young officer sat on the edge of her bunk and ran her fingertips over the top of the intricately designed lid. She found out a few years ago that the box was an antique handcrafted in Russia a century before. Even in its damaged state it was quite valuable. She had fended off several insistent antique shop owners already, but Noin refused to part with it under any circumstances. Its value for her was much more personal. She opened the lid and, as was her normal reaction on the rare times she deigned to open the precious box, she winced. 

In the corner of the box was a small cylinder with a key. She had not had the heart to fix the music works since Lady Une had broken it six years prior. Noin wasn't sure why, exactly, just that she could not bear to be reminded of some things and fixing the music box would serve as a constant reminder of a time that was lost forever. 

The young woman's gaze fell onto the contents of the box. It was full of small nick-knacks, scraps of paper, small mementos of a girl's life. Nestled among the other items was a small stuffed bear, well worn by the constant love of two children. 

"Hello Mr. Boo-Bear," Noin whispered with a smile, "How are you today?" 

Her fingers gently traced the outline of the toy's snout as she fondly remembered all of the nights she fell asleep with that small bear clutched tightly against her chest. It was amazing how such a small item could bring such comfort, but that is exactly what Mr. Boo-Bear gave her. A sense of comfort and reliability. Even at the advanced age of 18, Noin drew comfort from the simple fact that the toy was safely resting in her treasure box along with her other most prized possessions. 

Underneath the bear lay all manner of trinkets and letters, all of which served to tell the story of her life. An ornate perfume bottle, dutifully refilled when she had the money and could locate the expensive lilac fragrance. A small rock painted with the image of a horse--the knight from the make-shift chess set she and Zechs made when they were eight. A prayer card from Marguerite, a handwritten recipe from Ingrid. At the very bottom lay a small book, now no bigger than the palm of her hand. She plucked the tiny volume from its resting place and gingerly opened the cover. 

" 'To Lucretzia," Noin read out loud wistfully, "from her friend Damon upon the occasion of her sixth birthday'...Captain Damon..."

If there was one person she would want to make proud more than any other it would be Damon Pallidino. He had only been in her life a short time-- little more than a year--but he had a resounding impact on her life. He was the first grown-up she trusted enough to tell of her dreams. He had been understanding, sympathetic, never judgmental. Captain Damon had been as close to a father as she could imagine and a very good one at that. 

It had been Noin's wish when she was small to grow up just like him, to follow him into the Imperial Guards and spend her life defending the Peacecraft family, but that proved to be beyond her reach, just like so many of her other dreams. Her chances of following in his footsteps died with him and their adopted homeland, just as her dream of exploring space or becoming an astronomer died when she was forced into an Alliance orphanage. 

Her life had taken such drastic turns since the fall of Cinq. It had never occurred to her back then that she would be a soldier. She hated uniforms, they frightened her. Any sort of uniform reminded her of those first few terrifying hours after she woke up. Running, hiding, hunger, fatigue, destruction, shouting, smoke and pain. Those were the things soldiers brought to the world and now she was one of them. 

  


Granted, the decision had not been hers initially, but she had the opportunity to leave many times, and she still she stayed. Was it because she truly felt that fighting was the only way to prevent another child from going hungry and cold? Or was it simply that she did not feel as though she could do anything else at this point? Did she believe in OZ or not? At that moment she had no answer. 

Maybe she could answer that question eventually. In the meantime, she needed a place to think. A place away from the battles in which she could not join, away from the nausea of diplomacy and subterfuge of Treize's politics. Lake Victoria wasn't completely removed from the fray, but it was as far as she could get without resigning her commission. She boarded the plane the next day and landed in Africa six hours later. 

The moment she stepped onto the tarmac, Noin was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. Her days at the academy had not been all fun and games, but she had enjoyed her studies and been allowed the opportunity to spend time with her best friend. Indeed, if it had not been for the Academy, she might not ever have found Zechs again. She owed this place something. She was grateful for the chance to study, to grow strong and independent. Whatever else could be said about the Specials, her training had given her a sense of confidence she had not had as a small child. Before coming to Lake Victoria, she had measured herself by those around her. Was she as kind as Marguerite, as fast as Zechs? Her training here had given her much more than she realized. She judged herself according to her own goals and standards, which in many ways were stricter than OZ but dictated by her own conscience.

A young cadet trotted up to the lieutenant as she stood gazing at the base. He was obviously a first year, given his small size and apple-cheeked complexion. The boy saluted and breathlessly asked, "Lieutenant Noin?"

"Yes, cadet...?"

"Wylocek, ma'am. I'm here to escort you to the commandant's office."

"No need, Wylocek. I could find my way there in my sleep." 

She moved to pick up her bags as she spoke but noted that the young cadet looked a little flustered. Noin smiled. He had been sent to retrieve her. Those were his orders. Having his mission tell him he wasn't needed was evidently disconcerting. She had forgotten what it was like to be a new cadet.

"Could you help me with my bags, cadet?"

"Yes ma'am." 

The boy replied in enthusiastic relief and grabbed a large duffle bag. As they made their way across the quad, the cadet began to chatter in nervous excitement.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, lieutenant. Gosh, I never thought I'd get to meet _the_ Lieutenant Noin."

"You've heard of me?" Noin asked in surprise.

"Of course! Everyone knows about you. Next to Lieutenant Merquise, you're the highest ranking graduate in the history of LVA. You're one of the best suit pilots that ever lived, even His Excellency says so!"

"Does he?" Noin asked tolerantly. The boy was very eager indeed.

"Yes ma'am. Not that I've ever actually met His Excellency, but I hear the instructors say that all the time. They all like to brag that they taught you everything you know..." The boy suddenly paused in his monologue and blushed, obviously embarrassed by the break in protocol. "I'm...uh...sorry ma'am, I shouldn't have..."

  


Noin dismissed his apology as unnecessary. Instead, she asked him how he liked the Academy and what he planned to do upon graduation. Wylocek replied that he hoped to be a pilot but his real goal was to go to space. He had dreamed about that since he was a little boy and the idea of visiting one of the colonies was thrilling. Noin smiled as she listened, remembering her own childish glee at the possibility of seeing space for the first time. She had to admit. That glee had not lessened as she grew. 

Upon arrival at the commandant's office, the lieutenant sent her bags with Wylocek and met with her new boss. While she was at LVA, she was to be a flight instructor. Her secondary duty would be teaching classes in the astrophysics department. In addition, she would participate in the operation of the suit manufacturing plant that had recently been set up on the base to build the new class of space suits. All of which interested Noin a great deal. This assignment might not be such a bad post after all. She would have the opportunity to develop new suits as well as teach bright young recruits such as Wylocek.

Noin spent the next few days getting settled in and Monday of the following week she reported to the practice hanger for her class. She stood in front of a row of second years, all fresh-faced and eager, and began her first lesson. The lieutenant wasn't exactly certain how to begin. Should she tell them how important pilots were to the Specials? How it felt to fly faster than sound or to float weightless in space? She could simply begin by impressing a sense of honor and duty upon them to reinforce the idea that, as pilots, they were held to a higher standard. No. Maybe it would be best to start simple.  

"Hello. My name is Instructor Noin and I'm going to teach you how to fly."

==================== End Chapter 10 =====================

            I hope this chapter made sense. I have only edited it a couple of times, so if anything is confusing or unclear, please let me know. I really wanted to get it posted, so it might not be as good as other chapters. Sorry if it sucks. 

See? Sniper training did lead to a teaching position at Lake Victoria Academy, albeit in a round‑about way. Brownie points to everyone who figures out the significance of the codenames given to Une and Noin. For future reference, "The Commander" I introduced in this chapter will be important much later (probably in the sequel), so remember him and don't jump to conclusions about his identity just yet. Before anyone asks, **_NO_**, he is **_NOT_** Damon. Captain Damon is really dead. 

I might not be able to update for a few weeks, so please bear with me and know I am working on it diligently. I have no intention of ever abandoning this fic, even if it seems that way between updates. Heck, I've spent an entire year on this already. No way I'm giving up now! Chapter 11 picks up with the series time line, so those chapters should be easier. 

_Disclaimer_: This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and Sunrise. No copyright infringement is intended. I just like playing with the poor souls in Gundam Wing....dance puppets, dance!


	11. Convergence

[July 11, 2002: I rewrote the section in which the Commander speaks to his daughter. A couple of significant changes, but nothing huge.]

….MISS ME? Did ya think my head exploded? That I was sucked into the last episode of the X-Files? Kidnapped by a herd of stampeding rednecks? The answer is yes, but not necessarily in that order…

**AN**: This installment will take the story up through the first few episodes of the series. I have paraphrased much of the dialogue, using the subbed, dubbed and fan translations as a guide. I have hopefully kept the spirit of what was being said without strictly duplicating it. I will stick to the timeline and established plot but I have chosen to change a few _minor_ details (like clothing choices…some fashion victims need saving). Oh, and there doesn't seem to be a consensus on Walker's rank, so I made him a lieutenant. Thanks to Nausicaa for letting me use her name. Hopefully the next update won't take so long, but if it does…DON'T SHOOT!!!! I promise it will be worth the wait! Thank you to everyone for reviewing the last chapters and for being patient with me while I worked on this installment. You guys are great!

**_Episode Reference: Set before, during and just after episodes 1-3. _**

Still Grows the Lilac 

_Chapter 11_

_Convergence _

_~Corsica Base~_

            Lieutenant Elliot Walker strolled along the perimeter of OZ's Corsica base, taking a much-needed break from recent activities. As he looked around, he found himself wondering how this garbage heap could be converted into a mobile suit manufacturing plant. The base had only been resurrected a few weeks earlier, at the command of His Excellency, and the work involved in refurbishing the equipment and dilapidated buildings was proving more difficult than expected. Fully half of the equipment left at the base had to be replaced, most of the buildings would require major repairs before deemed habitable and the sub-level hydraulic lifts weren't working, necessitating the use of the emergency ladders just to see what was down there. 

            Eight teams of ten soldiers each were sent into different areas of the sub-levels to report on the condition of any remaining equipment. Thankfully, Walker didn't mind exploring dark places and the discovery of several tons of tools and equipment still in working order made the otherwise tedious chore worthwhile. If the other teams were as successful as his, then they had a chance to meet the deadline. Maybe even in time for Lieutenant Zechs Merquise's scheduled tour in two months. 

            "Lieutenant Walker!"

Walker turned to find Lieutenant Olivia Spenser Scott, more commonly known as Scottie, rushing towards him. "Hey, Scottie," Walker greeted as his seventeen-year-old comrade skidded to a stop. Walker grinned and noted how the sprint had tousled the short red curls that floated about her head, adding to her already disheveled appearance. Scottie was a rather high-strung girl to begin with, but when excited, she could be positively hyperactive. No one who saw the young lieutenant in her present state would ever have guessed she was the granddaughter of a prince. Scottie leaned forward, hands on knees for support, and tried to speak between gasps. 

"You'll…never…guess…" she panted, gulping in air. 

"I'll never guess what?" 

Walker laughed at the breathless girl's failed attempts to relate her news with gestures. She finally gave up and grabbed Walker's hand pulling him along as they raced back towards one of the old storage warehouses.  "Jus…c'mon, Elliot…" Walker followed obediently, glancing around to make certain no one overheard the use of his hated first name. Most of his friends called him Walker. Scottie was the only one brave enough—and cute enough—to get away with using his first name and even then only when they were alone. 

            Hand in hand, the pair sprinted across the base to the far west end, much the same way they had in their academy days. They first met as second years. Both seemed perpetually five minutes late for everything and often found themselves running side by side to the same classes. Eventually, they found time to learn each other's names and were soon fast friends. They had many of the same interests, both majoring in engineering before Walker was accepted into the pilot program, and also shared the same devotion to OZ. At five feet ten each, they even stood the same height, though Walker had high hopes of one last growth spurt to push him over the six foot mark. 

            The couple finally arrived at their destination, both breathless now as they scurried into the large sheet metal building. A few feet past the scaffolds and Walker could see exactly what had Scottie so excited. He froze in his tracks, clutching his friend's hand and gaping at the sight. Lieutenant Scott eventually tugged him forward and gestured upwards.

"Now how cool is _that_, I ask you?"

"Whoa…" Any small scrap of cool Walker still possessed after his wild trek across the compound evaporated when he looked up at the massive machine. It was still partially covered by the protective tarp that had obscured it for twenty years, but Walker could see enough. 

"Told you."

"It's huge," Walker breathed in shock, "I…it… it's _huge_! This has to be the biggest mobile suit I've ever seen!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Specials headquarters, mobile suit division, L2 cluster~_

Zechs Merquise awoke with a start and grimaced at the coppery aftertaste in his mouth. Blood. It had been years since he was forced to witness King Peacecraft's murder, yet Zechs could still taste the blood in his mouth. The shaken young man took a moment to catch his breath and reorient himself, then angrily threw the sweat soaked sheets off of his tensed body and made way to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and splashed some water on his face, cursing the damned relentless dreams. The dreams that marred his childhood and tortured his nights. As he grew and the memory of his home country's downfall began to fade into misty memory, Zechs had thought that the nightmares would lessen and vanish. If anything they had grown worse over the years. Every battle he fought brought back that day with horrifying clarity. Almost thirteen years. He was less than three months from his nineteenth birthday, he was OZ's famed Lightning Count, and despite the time, the reputation, the skill, he was at heart that horror-stricken six year old watching his father die. Still the dreams plagued him. 

There had been those precious periods in his life when the dreams could be held at bay and the monsters could be contained, but those times were few and far between, usually dependant on a person he had not seen in almost a year. Zechs splashed a few more handfuls of water onto his face and neck, washing away the sweat and lingering ill ease. He grabbed a towel off the rack and leaned against the ornately tiled wall of his spacious bathroom. Luxury of rank, perks of being a member of the elite Specials. He had only had this command for ten months, but his quarters were as plush as any ranking officer's suite on the colony.  Not that Zechs had much opportunity to enjoy the extravagance of his apartment. His time was generally spent on maneuvers. If he wasn't leading his men into battle he was supervising drills and war games, always keeping his troops razor sharp and on alert. Truth told, Zechs preferred the cramped darkness of his mobile suit to the colorful opalescence of his quarters.

Zechs walked out into his living area and made his way to the small, but well stocked, liquor cabinet. He bent down over the cabinet and rummaged the contents, bypassing the hard stuff in favor of a mild wine he kept on hand when he was forced to entertain fellow officers. The young man stood swirling the rich red liquid in the delicate goblet and stared out at the night sky. Not a real sky, of course. The illusion of a starlit nightscape was in actuality the lights from the other side of the colony peeking through the artificially produced clouds obscuring his line of vision. The pinpoints of light weren't stars, simply streetlamps, car lights, porch lights. It was a charming scene, but it could not compare to the exquisitely peaceful view of space. Real stars were alive, he was told once, alive with the wishes and hopes of generations. One can't make a wish on streetlamp. 

Zechs took a breath and allowed himself the rare privilege of thinking of the person who made that comment so long ago. He had successfully moved on, finally putting aside his childish need for that certain young woman's support and approval. Zechs regained the cold hatred that drove him to seek retribution and avenge his family. He cultivated the cool, calculating side of his nature and honed himself into a strong leader, capable of sending any of number of soldiers to their deaths in order to accomplish the mission. He prepared himself daily for the eventuality of his own death and accepted that achieving his goals might very well mean the end of everything his father held dear. He played the part of the sophisticated young nobleman to the hilt, earning him the adoration of Romefellar and the jealous contempt of the Alliance command. Lieutenant Merquise spent ten months in this pursuit and succeeded with alarming ease.

Yet with all Zechs had accomplished, there was still that small part of him that kept that young woman's memory alive, the tiny part of his brain that wondered where she was and how she fared. He had heard of her fall from grace and sudden career switch. The details were of course not bandied about, but he could assume all the same. She had refused to give herself up. Refused to do what he himself did so willingly. Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin had refused to become a monster and had paid the price. Exiled now to Lake Victoria, languishing in a teaching position when her rightful place was in the cockpit of a mobile suit, yet Noin still remained in OZ. That had surprised him. Zechs had been certain that once Noin was rotated out of the battle division, her resignation would be forthcoming. It never happened, though, and Zechs could not help but wonder why. True, Noin was most likely involved in the base operations as well as the school, but still. It wasn't like her to…

Zechs stopped himself mid-thought. How the hell would he know what was and wasn't like Lucretzia Noin? He had not spoken to her in almost a year. He left her with an argument and a kiss. No explanations or apologies for what would come next, flattering himself that none were necessary. He was a changed person ten months later. How could he assume she wasn't? Noin had her own life now, completely separate from him and it was as it should be. He had to be single minded in his purpose, but he didn't want that for her. Zechs finished off his wine and headed back to the bathroom for a shower. It was four o'clock in the morning. Might as well get to work. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~OZ safe house, somewhere near the Russian border~_

****

            "Are you certain? This is much sooner than we planned."

            "Yes, but I'm afraid Dekim has forced our hand. If we don't proceed now, _he_ will."

            The Commander pondered this for a few seconds, staring at the flickering image of his colony contact on L1, an elderly man with mechanical eyes and a prosthetic arm. The Commander sat in a darkened room in an OZ post, secreted away from his fellow Romefellar members. He sat hunched over a rigged comlink, hardwired into the communications relay. Most of their conversations took place in similar rooms, always with an eye on the time for fear the piggybacked transmission would run a second too long and be detected. Twenty years of careful planning was about to come to fruition, but it was too soon, in his opinion, and that would materially damage the mission's chance for success. The doctor was correct, however. If they did not take action, Dekim Barton and his loathsome brother would proceed as planned…at the cost of millions more lives. 

            "Very well. I'll send the target information as soon as possible…just remember what we agreed."

            "Lake Victoria is not to be targeted. Yes, I know," the old man croaked, a note of exasperation in his voice. "Although I'm still not satisfied as to your reasons, Commander."

            "You don't have to be satisfied, doctor, you just have to agree." The Commander leaned forward, speaking with uncharacteristic menace. "Because if you don't, I will not hesitate to bring this whole operation toppling down."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Specials headquarters, mobile suit division, L2 cluster~_

            Zechs Merquise sat in the open cockpit of his Leo, the mobile suit design used in surface battle, and stared down at a knot of Specials officers. He had been making minor adjustments to his suit's controls. Nothing significant, just a few modifications that would aid in his reaction time. The young pilot happened to glance out and spied another lieutenant loading ammunition onto the Aries across the catwalk. Zechs narrowed his eyes and focused all of his attention on that dark haired officer. Lieutenant Otto Weir was the man's name and by all accounts he was a fine, upstanding member of the Specials. Lieutenant Merquise's own observations revealed an efficient and highly capable soldier. Otto followed orders, offered correct opinions and useful suggestions. Despite it all, Zechs didn't trust the older man one bit, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for such apprehension. 

            The first day he met Otto, Zechs requested the man's service record and personnel file. Age: twenty-eight. Service: Alliance, four years; Specials, twelve years. Service, promotions, commendations. Everything was in order. Not perfect, but in order. Otto had been in the Alliance regulars until recruited by the Specials. Not unusual. His disciplinary record was less than shining. That turned out to be in his favor. Around the age 16 or so, Otto suddenly became something of a discipline problem, talking back to superiors as well as getting drunk and fighting. Typically this was exactly the type of behavior Specials recruiters looked for. Unhappy, disillusioned with the brutality of the Alliance. Otto seemed the perfect candidate for the Specials, but something about the man disturbed Zechs deeply and now, staring down from his exalted position, he suddenly knew why.

            As Otto oversaw the ammunition being loaded into the Aries, a young soldier accidentally elbowed the lieutenant in the ribs, causing Otto to double over for a moment. In a flash, Zechs knew what disturbed him about the lieutenant. Unconsciously he gripped the controls as an unwelcome memory invaded his thoughts. Almost thirteen years ago. His sixth birthday…

*__

_"Some of your people made it out that way." _

_The soldier pointed towards the thick brush just beyond the garden. Milli looked back up. The soldier was still pale from retching. He was shaking, tears in his eyes, his nose running…he looked frightened. Milli never expected to see monsters who could be frightened. Feeling a tug on his hand, the young prince redirected his gaze to the wide-eyed toddler by his side. Without further thought, Milli led baby Rena into the woods towards freedom…_

*

            Otto. The Alliance soldier. He was the young soldier who allowed Prince Milliardo Peacecraft to escape with his sister, Princess Relena. The lieutenant felt his stomach tighten and churn as new possibilities tumbled through his mind, each more dangerous than the last. The idea that Otto was a spy for the Alliance was not a new one, but there were other, more disturbing possibilities. One being his eventual discovery or that he had indeed already been recognized as the deposed prince of a dead kingdom. Zechs readjusted his mask, grateful once again for the anonymity it afforded him. The former prince leaned back further into the darkness of his mobile suit, mind working wildly. Coincidence? One hell of a coincidence, if that was indeed the case, but he did not believe in coincidence. Zechs abruptly leapt out of his Leo and walked up to speak with Lieutenant Otto. It wasn't a particularly animated conversation. Those around likely only saw two officers commenting on the specifications of the Aries verses Leo. Otto himself was completely oblivious to what was actually taking place and politely answered his superior's questions to the best of his ability. Then again, he could be acting. Zechs couldn't be certain and that disturbed him. He excused himself mildly and left, making a beeline for his office.

            He grabbed Otto's file from its semi-permanent resting place in his top drawer and poured over the information for what seemed like the hundredth time. Nothing. Still nothing to lead Zechs to believe that Otto was anything more than a disillusioned Alliance soldier turned born again OZ officer. Zechs balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth to quell the rising need to throw something. Was his uneasiness simply a replay of the old childhood fears born out of the holocaust he was forced to witness? Or were his soldiers instincts warning him of danger? He couldn't tell. He needed another opinion. Zechs reached over and tapped the comlink to the outer office and summoned his assistant. 

At his command, in bound a perky blonde officer wearing the familiar green uniform of the Specials. She stood at attention and executed a firm salute, waiting for further instructions. Zechs returned the gesture and waved the young woman into an at ease posture. Officer Nausicaa Van Deuzen was one of those naturally enthusiastic people who made even the most formal gesture seem casual and friendly. For the past six months, the sixteen-year-old Academy graduate had served as personal assistant to the Lightning Count and during that time Zechs had come to appreciate the girl's eagerness. She was a talkative person, quick to express her opinions, but also very observant and possessing an uncanny knack for getting people to talk to her about their lives. She joked that five minutes was all she needed to find out anything about anyone and her 'victim' would never know the difference. It was a skill that Zechs had come to rely on over the past few months and intended to make use of now.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes, Officer Van Deuzen, I have a favor to ask."

"Shoot, sir."

"Understand, officer, this is a request. If you chose to refuse, it won't be a problem."

"Well, sir, if you're asking, it must be important."

Zechs handed over Otto's file. "I need to find out about this man. I need to know what can't be found in his service records."

Nausicaa perused the file, lingering over the photograph clipped to the front page and arching an eyebrow. "He's not bad…not bad at all…" She looked up, grinning mischievously, "Permission to flirt with him sir?"

"He is a little too old for you, Van Deuzen. I think the little sister routine should suffice."

The younger officer looked a bit disappointed by this, but agreed. "Oh all right. I'll ambush him in the mess hall at lunch."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Corsica Base~_

"This suit is going to kick ass," Walker mumbled to himself as he completed the computer hookups. "Navigational programs are go," he shouted to his partner, Olivia Scott, as he jumped down. Landing on the catwalk with a loud clang. Seeing his companion eating, he trotted over. "A-ha! Food." Walker grabbed Scottie's hand and took an impossibly large bite of the sandwich she held, mumbling his approval through bulging cheeks. Scottie looked from her half-gone lunch to her friend chewing happily. 

"Uh…thanks for leaving my fingers, Walker."

"Uhm hngry," was the muffled reply, punctuated by an innocent shrug. 

"It's a good thing I like you, Elliot or sometimes I could really just…" The girl waved a fist menacingly as she took a more delicate bite. 

They shared the rest of the sandwich as well as a can of soda Scottie pulled from her tool box and sat staring up at the massive mobile suit. It was twice as large as any other mobile suit either officer had ever worked on, yet the old system codes indicated this model was at least twenty years old. They agreed that the machine was a prototype and speculated that it had never been powered up. Half of the computer programs had never been installed and there was no indication that the navigational relays were ever brought online. It was pristine, inside and out, thanks to the diligence of Walker and his partner. Another few weeks and the suit would be battle ready. Hopefully they could finish by the time Lieutenant Merquise arrived to tour the Corsica base. 

"I can't wait to show this to Lieutenant Zechs."

Scottie leaned forward, kicking her feet over the edge of the scaffolding. "He means a lot to you."

"Yeah," Walker nodded, speaking in between chews and swallows. "He helped me whenever I asked. Fencing, homework, hand-to-hand…what ever. I would have washed out my first year at Lake Victoria if it hadn't been for Lieutenant Zechs."

Scottie smiled softly, tilting her head to peer at her friend. "Then I guess we both owe him our thanks."

Walker, still trying to process his mouthful of food, smiled as best he could and hoped he wasn't blushing. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Specials headquarters, mobile suit division, L2 cluster~_

            Lunch was quite an experience. Zechs hovered just outside the door to watch as his assistant ambushed her target. Zechs rarely took his meals in the mess hall for the simple reason that it reminded him too much of Lake Victoria's cafeteria, more specifically the food. Instead, he preferred to eat at his desk while shuffling the obligatory paperwork or to have a sandwich in the mobile suit hanger while running diagnostics, but that day he couldn't resist the chance to see Officer Nausicaa in action. He watched as she subtly struck up a conversation with Otto, managing to wrangle an invitation to join him for lunch. A few moments and a few expertly timed hair tosses later, and the pair were laughing and talking like old friends. Zechs shook his head in amusement. Otto didn't stand a chance. 

            Zechs looked on for a little while longer then retired to his office to wait for Nausicaa's report. On his desk he found a new memo indicating that Otto had been assigned to Zechs' transport for the trip back to Earth. With the memo was the official transfer document awaiting his signature. He shook his head. Yet another coincidence to worry over. An hour later his assistant returned with a look of triumph on her face. 

"Well?"

Officer Van Deuzen shrugged, "He seems legit sir. He almost deserted before a Specials officer tagged him for the mobile suit division."

"What prompted him to desert?"

"He didn't want to talk about specifics, but I got the idea that he saw something pretty horrible when he was with the Alliance regulars."

"_You_ couldn't get specifics."

"I'm as shocked as you are sir. Usually guys as easy going as Otto open right up, but he was really uncomfortable with the idea of talking about what happened…I haven't had this much trouble getting information out of a guy since…well, you lieutenant."

Zechs simply looked at the bubbly young officer, causing her to smile a little and shrug in apology.  

"I, uh, didn't mean anything by that sir."

            "That's all right. Continue."

"If you want my personal opinion sir?" Zechs nodded. "He's okay. Whatever happened was pretty bad, yes, but he's loyal to His Excellency for different reasons."

"True believer, not just revenge."

"Yes, sir."

Zechs let out a slow breath and looked down at the transfer order. Maybe he was just being paranoid. After all, for Otto to recognize him, he would have to see Zechs without the mask and that was highly unlikely. The mask did not leave the lieutenant's head unless he was about to step into the shower. No one had seen him without that mask since he left Earth, not even His Excellency. He signed the document with a quick flourish and handed it over to Van Duezen before he had the chance to talk himself back into a state of suspicion. He would give Lieutenant Otto Weir a chance, but only one. Any hint of duplicity on Otto's part and Zechs would personally see to it the man ceased to exist. If Otto ever recognized Zechs as the little boy he allowed to escape all those years ago, then he would remember the little girl who had escaped as well and that put Relena in danger. Zechs wouldn't risk that. He couldn't. But for now…

"Inform Lieutenant Otto of his current status and give him our departure information."

"Yes, sir." 

As the young officer left, Zechs sat back in his chair and stared out the window, allowing his thoughts to turn to Earth. So different from the artificial and controlled lifestyle of the colonies. Even the weather was controlled. It could only rain when the program called for it. No threats from nature, no beautifully unexpected spring showers. No serene darkness of a midnight sky. Noin had been right. Space was quiet and calm. Despite the skirmishes he fought and the rebellions he violently put down, space was still peaceful. The airless vacuum absorbed the noise of battle and extinguished the fire of destruction, leaving nothing but silence. But Earth…Earth was brutal, chaotic, overcrowded and underfed. It was home. No matter where he went or how long he was away, Earth would always be his home.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Romefellar headquarters, Saint Petersburg, Russia~_

The Commander once again sat in front of a communications link, this time not hidden in the shadows of some dank basement, but in his office at the Romefellar Foundation's main office building. His communiqué would not be restricted by the need for secrecy, nor would it be made with cryptic references, but in many ways, this call was much more difficult. Mainly due to the person on the receiving end of his call. 

"Greta, please." He sighed, trying not to loose his temper in front of the elderly woman on the screen. "I called to speak to…"

"You disappear for three months, not a word, not even a note to say you are all right and you expect me just to let you talk to my granddaughter as though nothing is wrong."

"She may be your granddaughter, but she is _my_ _daughter_ and I want to speak to her, _now_."

"Don't you dare take that tone with me," Greta snapped, "I think you have disrupted the girl's life quite enough! I wish to God her mother was alive…"

"So do I, Greta," The Commander interrupted wearily. "I wish that with all my heart."

The older woman's face softened visibly. Whether it was the quiet sincerity in the Commander's voice or simply the old woman's sentimentality, Greta seemed to relent and called back over her shoulder for her granddaughter.

"What is it Gram?"

The Commander smiled unconsciously at the lilting sound of his daughter's voice and waited patiently for the girl to come to the comlink. Finally, the image of a petite, raven-haired teenager appeared before him. His child. The surprise of his life, born fifteen years ago that day. He had not expected such a blessing so late in his life and had been reluctant to accept the idea given his past, but all it took was one look into those big blue eyes for the Commander to see what a blessing that baby girl really was. When his daughter was born, the Commander recognized immediately that she would grow up to look exactly like her mother, Astrid, a fact he found both pleasing and sad. 

The Commander's relationship with Astrid had not been one of deep affection, his interest in the young woman owing mainly to her remarkable likeness to another woman long dead. Still, when she announced her pregnancy, he had made the effort to provide a comfortable home for her. She wanted for nothing in the way of physical comforts and luxuries, but even after their daughter's birth, the Commander could not bring himself to care more deeply for Astrid than he had before. Astrid knew this and was understanding. She never asked for more than he was willing to give and the commander was forced to bear the guilt of being incapable of loving the woman the way she deserved, but his heart was not easily touched, particularly after so many years of careful effort to rid himself of all emotion. Yet with all of his success in creating such thick calluses around his heart, that little baby _had_ managed to reach him. She was probably the only person who could. 

"Hi sweetheart."

"Hey Dad." 

After a few awkward questions, the pair eventually eased into a warmer conversation. The Commander listened with interest as his daughter spoke to him of school, her friends, complained of her grandmother's rigidity when it came to the question of dating and all of the generally normal things parents discussed with their children. Only the Commander and his daughter were far from a normal parent and child.

"Sweetie, I…"

"Let me guess, Dad," the girl interrupted with some annoyance, "you're going away for a while and I might not hear from you for a long time."

"I'm sorry, but this is important."

"It's always important."

The Commander refrained from making a comment. She had a right to be angry, but this was not the time and he certainly couldn't explain to her that what he did today would ensure her safe future. Not that she was inclined to believe him at such a late date. Her childhood had been filled with lies and absences. He wondered if his daughter had been born earlier in his life, if he might have been a better father. What if she had been born to that other woman, his one true love, dead now for more than twenty years. What if she had come to him before all of the surgeries, before hate and revenge turned him from a pacifist into a double agent. Or was that a triple agent? It was so hard to keep score anymore. One day, when everything was finished, she would understand. At least that was what he told himself every night.

"I love you, sweetheart."

The girl glanced away briefly, then looked back, catching the Commander's eyes with her own. She ventured a smile. "I know Daddy. I know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Personal mobile suit carrier of Zechs Merquise, entering Earth's atmosphere~_

            "Lieutenant Zechs, a report just came in from Le Grange point AX regarding some space debris in the atmosphere."

Zechs glanced at the printout and scowled, "The crews on the observation satellite must be blind...or stupid. This isn't debris from a deteriorating space station. These objects are following a defined trajectory."

"You mean…"

"Yes. Operation M has begun…rebel groups among the colonies have finally decided to act against the Alliance's imposition of martial law." Lieutenant Merquise studied the report for a moment, amused by stupidity of his counterparts at Le Grange point. They thought they were sending the great Lightning Count on a garbage run. If they knew what was truly happening, he would have been the last called, simply out of spite for his fame. No Alliance officer would have willingly given the ambitious officer a chance to further bolster his reputation by discovering Operation M.  Turning back to his flight crew, Zechs asked, "How many of the objects can we reach?"

"Just one…headed for Eastern Eurasia."

"I suppose that will have to do for now…set course to intercept."

"Approaching target, sir." Otto switched on the cabin monitor.

"Just as I thought," Zechs said, mostly to himself, "So…this is their new battle-seed, all ready to sprout a new war. There's a commercial shuttle in front of it, though. He will be forced to slow down. Track its progress."

"Aren't you worried it will shoot the shuttle down?"

"The pilot knows we are here and I doubt he would shoot it down right in front of us. It would attract too much unwanted attention. This is supposed to be a _secret_ mission, after all."

"He's entered the atmosphere."

"Follow him."

Otto made the necessary adjustments to the ship's course and carefully monitored the hull's exterior temperature. Changing course once a ship entered Earth's atmosphere was a risky task. The smallest mistake and the ship could suffer major damage. 

 "Sir! The fighter has changed its course!"

Changed course? Zechs frowned. The man was going to get himself killed. "That's suicidal." 

"Perhaps he is trying to burn himself up to conceal his mission." 

"Possibly."

"But the object is accelerating," Otto interjected, taking a quick reading, "I think it's trying to get away from us."

"Impossible," scoffed his young co-pilot, "No spacecraft could endure the heat of re-entry at that speed."  
            "Yes, it could," Zechs corrected. Remembering the recent reports he had received about the new gundanium alloys being smuggled around the colonies, he added, "It looks like our enemy possesses some advanced technology."

Even as they spoke, the enemy craft shed its re-entry capsule and emerged. To the surprise of everyone in the OZ transport, what appeared to be a smuggler's ship was in fact a new fighter design. Zechs quickly ordered a full sensor scan to determine the fighter's capabilities. 

"So this is the secret weapon of the colonies," Otto commented as he studied the readout. "It looks like a bird." He sounded a bit awed. Zechs could hardly blame the man for his attitude. The ship was brilliantly designed. The moment the outer hull was sloughed off, the fighter disappeared from radar. If not for the fact that his ship was within range to maintain visual contact, the pilot would have slipped away undetected.   
            "We're reaching aerodynamic cruising altitude. We can attack the fighter now."   

Otto nodded to his younger co-pilot, "Fire a warning shot."  
            Zechs stood and leaned over the pilot's seat to countermand the order. "No, it won't listen to any warnings. Just shoot it down."

"Lieutenant Zechs?"

            "At first I thought this ship was smuggling a weapon onto earth but now we know it to be the secret weapon itself. We can't allow that pilot to escape."

            "Yes, sir."

            Otto quickly reoriented the firing range and prepared to shoot, aiming for what he believed to be the weakest points on the fighter. In the space of a few seconds, the fighter spun around, accelerating as it rocketed towards the OZ craft.  By the time Otto acknowledged the change in direction, Zechs was at the door to the cockpit, heading for the mobile suit launch bay.  

"Lt. Zechs, the enemy fighter reversed its course and is coming this way!

"Otto, standby to open the cargo bay doors. I'm taking my Leo out to meet the enemy."

"Yes sir. I'll have two Aries prepared to back you up."

The younger co-pilot seemed unnerved by Zechs' choice of weapons. "Sir? If you are going to destroy that fighter with a mobile suit, isn't Aries more suitable than Leo? Aries is much faster and it is made for air battle. The Leo is a land suit."

"My Leo is fast enough. Besides, I should pay some respect to our brave enemy." Noticing the puzzled expression on the younger soldier's face, Zechs explained. "The Leo is much more maneuverable and is better armed. If I'm going to fight, I should give it my all, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir!"  
            Two minutes later, Zechs was strapped in and ready to go. As the cargo bay doors slid open, Zechs could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, the almost painful prick of his fighter's instincts as his body and mind went to full alert. 

"Lieutenant Zechs, as soon as the Aries' are ready, we'll dispatch them to join you."

"Roger." 

With that, Zechs released the grappling hooks and sent his Leo on a controlled freefall into through the upper atmosphere. Out of nowhere, the enemy fighter streaked overhead. It took Zechs only a moment to respond, his well-honed fighting reflexes kicking in immediately. The Leo was designed for land battle, its systems designed to provide powerful bursts of speed and maneuverability. In its present situation, falling through the atmosphere at top speed, some of the power was lost, but Zechs compensated with expert maneuvering techniques. He spun the suit just as the enemy fighter sped overhead and mentally followed the craft's path, firing even before he regained visual contact. A burst of fire and smoke told the lieutenant that his shot hit its mark. The fighter veered sharply and dropped towards Earth. 

"That was great shot, Lieutenant Zechs."

Zechs didn't bother to acknowledge the congratulations from his men as they joined him in their Aries air battle suits. He was too preoccupied with disappointment and apprehension. The battle was over far too quickly for his liking. One shot and it was all over? Perhaps the enemy was not as strong as Zechs initially gave him credit for. His soldier's instincts told him otherwise. "No. That can't be all. That was too easy."

"Sir, should we take you in, or should we chase that fighter in our Aries?"

"Let it go down. We'll investigate on the ground. It'll be a great opportunity for us to learn more of Operation M."

"Sir," Otto's voice broke in from the transport, "Don't you think that pilot will blow himself up?

"After coming so close to his objective? No. I don't think so. At least, not yet…what the hell?"  

Zechs and his two Aries pilots looked on in stunned wonder as the seemingly disabled fighter plane suddenly began to transform. Its wings rotated backwards as the cockpit slid down into what became the torso of an impossibly large mobile suit. The transformation took only a scant few moments and suddenly the enemy was speeding back towards the trio of Specials suits and the carrier. Otto was the first to break the stunned silence.  
            "Lieutenant Zechs, do you know what type of Mobile Suit that is?"

"No..." Zechs responded absently. Obviously this wasn't simply stolen OZ or Alliance technology. This was a unique design, well armored and more maneuverable than any suit currently in the Alliance arsenal. His mind reeled with the possibility. With a few quick adjustments, he had his suit repositioned and awaited a second attack from the new suit. Part of him was gratified by the unexpected turn of events. It would seem his enemy was worthy after all.  

"Lieutenant Zechs. The Alliance commander at Tokyo Bay is asking about our delay. They want to know if they should send an escort."

"Damn…" Zechs muttered. The last thing he wanted was a group of Alliance pilots with chips on their shoulders escorting him to base. 

"Sir, let us take care of it."

Zechs cringed at the young Aries pilot's suggestion, wanting nothing more than to test the endurance of the enemy suit himself, but there was no time. He had a shipfull of mobile suits in his keeping and risking those to satisfy his own curiosity was too reckless, so he agreed, "Do it. Otto, contact the base and inform them we will be arriving within the hour and prepare for boarding." He powered down and released the Leo's parachutes. Watching with interest as the other two suits moved to intercept the Gundam. 

As Zechs' suit slowed, he fired the navigational thrusters to maneuver himself towards the carrier. He was disappointed, to say the least, in being forced to leave the new suit to his underlings, but such was the burden of command. After all…

The lieutenant's thought was violently interrupted by the sudden destruction of the two Aries. Both completely destroyed by one shot from the enemy suit. The pilots in question were far from the best, but well trained and experienced all the same. Having destroyed those two obstacles so quickly, the enemy was certain to turn his attention to the carrier. Zechs immediately released the parachute and advanced to meet the new suit half way. His dobergun no longer of use, the lieutenant instead pulled the beam saber and brought it down in a swift stroke. As quick as he was, it was not quick enough as the enemy mobile suit caught the Leo's arm. Zech seized the opportunity to position his suit over the enemy, locking both suits in a death struggle reminiscent of the ancient gladiators of Rome. He set the control mechanisms to hold, successfully preventing the enemy suit from being able to wrench free. With the added weight of the Leo bearing down upon it, the enemy was helpless to use its flight capability. Both suits now continued a freefall through the atmosphere, plummeting towards the ocean thousands of miles below. 

            Zechs made a quick call to Otto to relay his plan, strapped on his parachute and ejected.  It was a huge chance, he knew, but there was little choice. Otto would try his best to track Zechs' descent and hopefully pinpoint where his superior entered the ocean. If he was lucky, there would be some sort of vessel nearby that could pluck him from the sea.  A fifteen minute drift and Zechs finally plunged into the rough waves, struggling with the straps and cables of his chute before breaking the surface. He gasped for air, flowing platinum hair wrapping about his body in wet ropes that hindered movement. The red wool uniform coat, so admired by the fashion conscious Romefellar elite, now added weight to his struggle. Polished patent knee-boots that lent such an air of cavalier charm, now threatened to fill with water and drag him back into the murky depths. Even his mask, which had miraculously stayed put throughout his fall, now obscured his vision with tiny rivers of water meandering across the eye lenses. Well, this wasn't going to be any fun at all. The OZ lieutenant prepared himself for a long evening of treading water, but to his great relief was rescued by a Japanese fishing vessel only three hours later. Immediately upon reaching port, Zechs made his way to the local authorities to call Otto, who, as it turned out, had managed to locate and contact the fishing boat to request their assistance. 

"Lieutenant Zechs, are you all right? That was a dangerous maneuver."

"I'm fine. I did what I had to. How soon can you pick me up?"

"ETA, fifteen minutes sir. They have a very small airstrip west of the port."

"I'll have one of the officers here drive me to the airstrip. Did you deliver the suits?"

"As you ordered sir. I refueled and took off again just before you called."

"Good work, Otto." Zechs nodded at the older man in appreciation. The day had certainly been one of trials and Otto had met every one calmly and with professionalism. Zechs was beginning to become impressed with the officer. Otto was turning out to be something of an asset to the young count. He could respect the man if not fully trust him just yet. 

"Sir, I have been analyzing the data from the skirmish. Considering the strength of the outer armor, that suit has to be made of Gundanium alloy."

"Then it is one of the new rebel weapons. We should try to salvage it as soon as possible."

"Don't you think the pilot could have escaped?"

"Even if the Mobile Suit survived the impact of hitting the water, the pilot inside could not."

A faint beep from Otto's comlink interrupted the conversation temporarily. The older lieutenant frowned then turned back to the screen. "Sir, an aircraft carrier from the Alliance Marine down there is asking us if it should go ahead and start searching for the downed Mobile Suit."

Zechs smirked to himself, equally disgusted and amused by the thought of Alliance fleet commanders scrambling to see who could claim the prize first.  "Let them do as they wish. Tell them the treasure sank around point J-A-P in East Asia."

"Yes, sir."

Zechs cut the communication and stood to find an officer willing to play chauffer for a few minutes. Word of the new suit spread more quickly than he would have liked. Not only through OZ, but to the Alliance as well. He would have liked the chance to retrieve the suit himself, perhaps tested it when repairs were made, but the Alliance would swarm the splash down site with all manner of surface vessels, each commanding officer vying to take credit for the squashed rebellion. They were like rabid dogs fighting over scraps. They no longer had any sense of decorum or finesse, if indeed they ever possessed any. They could not see beyond the day's prize, that hour's orders. The big picture was lost to them and it was this narrowness of vision that would be the death of the Alliance. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~_Royal Opera House, Brussels, Belgium, Earth_~

"You lost three Mobile Suits?"

"Yes, Excellency." 

His Excellency, Treize Kushrenada watched his subordinate nervously flinch as he made his report. It wasn't an obvious reaction. Only one well acquainted with Lieutenant Merquise would have picked up on the subtle movement. It was a difficult admission for the younger man to make. His Excellency knew that Zechs was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to battle and his miscalculation weighed upon him heavily. The young count's status as Treize's most trusted senior officer did nothing to ease his burdens. Indeed, many Alliance officers found fault with Lieutenant Merquise for this fact alone.  Still, knowing this did nothing to alleviate Treize's disappointment in a poor performance.

"It's not like you to be so careless. It will be quite an effort to pacify the Alliance big shots."

"The enemy turned out to be a Mobile Suit made of Gundanium alloy."

It was Treize's turn to react, although with equal subtlety. To the casual observer, His Excellency looked no more perturbed than he ad a moment before, save the raised eyebrow, inching steadily towards his hairline. 

"You're joking."

"It's true. It transformed from a standard flight configuration into a mobile suit."

"A rebel mobile suit made of gundanium…. Alliance surveillance is far from sufficient for something so advanced."

"If it was actually built on a colony..."

"This could be a problem. I applaud the colonies' efforts, but it could not be more ill timed. They endanger our own plans." Treize leaned back into the velvet upholstery of his chair and rubbed his chin in contemplation. He sighed quietly. These problems were not of his making, but his responsibility nonetheless. Quite frankly, he was weary of dealing with the mistakes of his predecessors. "If you and I had been with OZ from the beginning I'm sure such a mess could never have happened."

"The Alliance Marines are trying to recover the downed Mobile Suit."

"I'll tell them we'll take care of it. I'll also send you a special under-sea unit with the new pisces and cancer suits. Take command of the submarine, but defer to the Alliance surface fleet."

"Yes, sir."

"As you know, this is an important time for OZ. Be careful not to do anything to anger the Alliance." 

"Understood."

Treize severed the connection and made a valiant attempt to return his attention to the fine performance taking place below.  It was an obscure opera, but his favorite. The plot was a simple one, love triumphing over hate, good over evil. Simplistic perhaps, but it was a welcome change to the increasing complexities of his own well plotted drama. He had planned for every eventuality, even the possibility of a full-scale rebellion in the colonies, but even Treize's treacherous mind could not have predicted the existence of rebel mobile suits of such advanced design. Made of gundanium, no less. Possession of that rare material by anyone outside of the research division of the Alliance was a severe crime, considered treason. To be caught smuggling the precious metal meant instant death. The colonists had indeed been pushed beyond their limits. His Excellency knew that was bound to be the case at some point, but he admitted to being surprised at the timing. 

            Unable to keep his mind on the performance any longer, the duke left the opera house and returned to his mansion.  He paid a cursory visit to his office, receiving a hasty update from his personal assistant and retired for the evening. Sleep was all but impossible, the new threat was a troublesome one, even more so than His Excellency would admit to his most trusted ally. Should Zechs' effort to locate the new type mobile suit prove impossible, then the enemy would indeed have an advantage. The only suit that could compare to the specifications was the Epyon and that suit was determined to be at least twenty years old. If the creators of that abomination were still living and in possession of the proper resources, then there was no telling how many more of these new so-called Gundams would materialized in the coming months. The thought of a fleet of craft of Epyon's capability sent a chill through his spine. Even Treize would not dream of such a devastating army. 

The next morning, Treize sauntered into the elaborately appointed conference room with an air of confidence he did not feel. He just spent three hours pouring over the latest information on the new threat. The potential damage to his organization was devastating. Any trepidation he felt was kept carefully hidden from his superiors in Romefellar and more importantly, carefully hidden from the Alliance generals who seemed to perpetually bite at his heels. 

"I'm sorry I'm late.

General Venty immediately spoke to the matter at hand. "Colonel Treize, is it true that one of your men lost three mobile suits when his freighter re-entered the atmosphere?"

"Yes, sir. Your point being?" Treize responded placidly, but with just enough arrogant bravado to annoy some of the token Alliance officers present. General Septem being the spokesman for the less tactful members of the group. 

"Idiot! You wasted three of our precious Mobile Suits for just one spy?!"

"Yes, General, but in the process we successfully prevented a full assault."

Treize's reasonable comment only served to anger Septum all the more. Which was exactly the reaction Treize was hoping for. Every moment of irrational anger, each time the insipid little man's fist jarred the oak conference table only to be met by Treize's serene logic, was another point in OZ's favor. Let the man bark. 

"I'm not talking about the results, boy! You're wasting the military's valuable combat resources."

"Valuable resources?" His Excellency replied, his tone betraying none of the contempt and anger he felt.  "Excuse me, but do these 'resources' you're talking about include military personnel as well or do they simply refer to mobile suits?"

"Damn you! You dare ridicule me?"

General Venty evidently had enough of the conversation himself and chose to interrupt before things got out of hand. "Now, now...there's nothing to be done about it. Colonel Treize, next time, be more careful."

"Yes, sir." 

"Now, let's move to today's agenda: How to prevent the colonies from forming an organized resistance."

Treize only paid cursory attention to the ensuing speech. He knew very well how to prevent the colonies from forming a united front, but eventually the colonies _would_ be consolidated under one leader. The very same leader destined to guide the Earth to a new era of peace. Treize glanced around the huge table, his eyes pausing briefly on every Alliance officer. Each and every man had devoted his life to strengthening the Alliance and expanding its influence, but at the same time they were getting too complacent. Years of unchallenged domination had weakened their resolve. It was exactly what he had been waiting for his entire career. Just a little while longer, a few more months to prepare and the time would be right.

"_The future will be determined by OZ," _Treize thought smugly, "_It will be determined by me…"_

When the meeting was finally adjourned Treize retreated to his shooting range. He dismissed the staff, preferring to load and tend his own weapons, and spent the next few hours firing at the red and white targets. Each plunk and ping sounding after a successful hit—and they were all successful hits—gave him another brief moment of satisfaction. This was the duke's preferred mode of stress relief in times of doubt. Perfection in this was as satisfying to Treize as the execution of a perfect battle plan. 

His Excellency's collection of antique fire arms included weapons from the seventeenth century up to the beginning of the present era, but Treize preferred armaments from the nineteenth century. There was something infinitely more distinguished in a weapon from that time period. The hand crafted details, the elaborately engraved fittings. These were deadly weapons made for duels of honor, battles of principle, men of purpose. 

            His Excellency selected a serviceable rifle used prior to the so-called Great War fought in the first decades of the twentieth century, Before Colony. The rifle was graceful in its simplicity, yet accurate and deadly. Treize admitted a particular distaste for the Great War. It marked a turning point in human history. Warfare changed in that conflict. No longer were battles fought in the old manner, man meeting man on the battlefield. Instead, chemicals were employed and new machines replaced the soldiers so intent on victory. This idea had progressed over the ensuing century, finally culminating in the theory that soldiers were not needed at all. There were stirrings already among the Romefellar engineers. They insisted their research into automated mobile suits would change the face of war forever. They were correct, of course, but where they saw improvement, Treize saw a dangerous and sickening mistake. There could be little honor in battle fought from control rooms miles away from the devastation. Wars were fought and won by soldiers. To eliminate this most basic element was to eliminate the human face of such battles. No lesson could be learned by a machine, no mercy fostered, only destruction. Such a battle could have no other point.

            His Excellency's solitary reverie was interrupted by a servant carrying a portable comlink. The duke had the communications device set up on his tea table and continued his shooting practice, only pausing long enough to offer appropriate greetings to his most trusted subordinate, Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. Unfortunately, the pleasure Treize took in a call from his old friend was tainted by the news the younger man bore. Aggravated by the turn of events, Treize decided to take out his frustrations on the targets, pausing occasionally to reply to Zechs. 

 "So, we have been forced into a stalemate?"  
            A moment of static caused the image of Lieutenant Merquise to falter. He paused, waiting for the disruption to clear and continued. "There wasn't much that could be done considering we still don't have a clear understanding of their objectives. But if we must act, I suggest the Corsica base."  
            "Where all the Leo-types are now being built. It's only a few weeks into full operation."

            "Yes, which makes it the next logical place for an attack."

            "Hm." Treize nodded slightly, but maintained his position. He stood in perfect shooting stance, sighted through the rifle's scope and waited patiently for the proper moment. The targets changed, rotated, moving more quickly with each passing moment, and yet the man remained perfectly still. Waiting.  "I'm sure the Alliance military is doing everything to find the enemy. But maybe it's time for us to give them some help."

            "Sending the Middle East Aries Unit to the area is one option. However, considering the obvious difference in the mobile suits' performances, it will be difficult for us to operate with the Alliance Forces."  
            Treize glanced at the vidscreen and took note of the speed with which Zechs spoke, tossing out viable possibilities with a lively interest. The younger OZ officer continuously clenched and unclenched one hand as he spoke, now and then rubbing his chin as he thought over the situation. Zechs was excited over the prospect of fighting these Gundams. Treize couldn't help but be pleased by his protégé's reaction. It had been a very long time since he had seen his young friend express such interest. He did nothing to hide the smirk that developed on his fine features as he casually asked, "So, do you want to go? 

            "Sir?"

            "It's written all over your face, my friend." Glancing back at the masked young man on the vid screen, Treize smiled and added, "So to speak." As if on cue, a pheasant flew from behind the targets, attempting to escape the flurry of shots that had sent the creature into hiding, but His Excellency was too quick. Treize fired without warning, his bullet piercing the bird's flesh precisely. He had been waiting for just that moment, carefully maintaining aim on the false targets while his true prey cowered behind. A careful ruse to achieve his goal. It was a philosophy he adhered to his entire life. 

The world saw only what Treize Kushrenada wished to show, nothing more, nothing less. He was adored and respected. If they knew his true intent perhaps they too would cower out of sight, frightened. But few people truly understood him or why he laid out such a path for himself. There had been precious few people who _ever_ understood Duke Treize and the most important were dead. Dead by the hands of the very people Treize pretended to serve. Ten years he had worked for this. Ten years of aiming at false targets, waiting for the precise moment in which to destroy the true enemy, and now it was all being threatened by five reckless rebels from the stars. That would simply not do. 

"Shoot them down for me, Zechs."

            "Yes, Excellency."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Personal transport of Zechs Merquise, airspace above salvage site, thirty miles east of the Japanese coast~_

"Shoot them down for me, Zechs."

"Yes, Excellency."

Easier said than done. Zechs sat in his customary seat aboard his personal transport and considered all that had transpired in the past few hours. The search for the downed gundanium  suit, naturally, was usurped by the Alliance fleet, a certain Admiral Hansen in particular. Zechs had fought an uphill battle simply to be allowed to join the search with the _Nike_, OZ's largest submarine. Simply by virtue of the fact that he was an officer of OZ, a trusted representative of His Excellency, the elder Alliance officer had rejected any overture of assistance from Lieutenant Merquise. Eventually Zechs had managed to cajole his way in, but the effort left him drained and irritated. Brown-nosing with Alliance officers was not an endeavor he aspired to and it invariably caused more frustration, but there was little choice if he was to see anything of the mysterious gundanium mobile suit. 

In the end, it all came to nothing. Despite his repeated warnings and even the use of OZ's newest underwater suits, Cancer and Pisces, the salvage operation failed. They had in fact found the suit, were on the verge of recovery when all hell broke loose. Zechs' submarine was not within visual range of the operation and could only surmise what happened from the brief radio transmissions that were picked up before all communications suddenly ceased. Three destroyers, two smaller Alliance subs, the Cancer and the Pisces, all gone. From the massive amount of casualties, one would assume the fleet had encountered a swarm of enemy vessels, but the OZ craft's superior radar detected only one large unidentified object. A second Gundam. Bad news in itself, but what he discovered in the next two hours created a permanent knot in the young man's stomach. 

Five. Five Gundams. So far every one else who had encountered a Gundam was dead or very nearly so. Only the quick thinking of several intelligence officers made the two images he held in his hand possible. All targets figured greatly in some aspect of mobile suit manufacture or transport. Dover, Maui, Morocco, Tokyo bay…space ports, manufacturing bases, transport vessels. They were out to cripple production of the Alliance's most valuable weaponry. No one who laid eyes upon one of these enemy suits had lived, with the exception of Zechs and his flight crew. It seemed as though there were a jinx attached to those "Gundams." As Zechs studied all available information on the four other suits, he caught a few snippets of the conversation between his pilot, Lieutenant Otto and co-pilot, Officer Palmer. The latter officer seemed frustrated by the fact that the transport was being forced into a holding pattern above another Alliance aircraft carrier sent to continue the search for the first Gundam. As Palmer's annoyance increased, Zechs felt the need to cut in. He certainly didn't need a high-strung pilot adding to his worries.

 "Don't get so flustered, Palmer" he admonished, "That Gundam is not going anywhere. Here," Zechs said as he offered the most recent surveillance photos to placate the young pilot, "what do you make of these?"

Palmer's eyes grew wide as saucers, "More of them sir?"

"Five confirmed."

At this Otto spoke up, "Only five sir? Surely there will be more."

"Possibly, but five will be more than enough to keep us busy. Cancer and Pisces are both state-of-the-art Mobile Suits, and still they were no match for this second Gundam."  
"So you believe the first retrieval operation was definitely destroyed by another Gundam?"

"I don't see any other reasonable explanation."

"Do you think five are really so dangerous?  
"I've lost a dozen trained men, these suits have individually destroyed five separate bases. The loss is too significant. The worst mistake we could make right now would be to underestimate these Gundams and their pilots."

"Then, lieutenant, what should we do?

"We are going after every one of those Gundams and determine once and for all what their objectives truly are. Let the Alliance Navy take over the sea search. I doubt they'll find anything. Set course for Corsica and arrange for a mid-air refueling."  
            "Yes, sir."

            Throughout the flight, new information regarding the other Gundams was constantly coming in over the communications relay. The fourth of the remaining Gundams was spotted in China and seemed to be headed for a particular Alliance base located along the Yangtze River.

"This one moves as though he is aware of our observations."

Zechs agreed. "Yes and it's moving slowly. It may be a type without flying capability.

"You believe they don't all possess the same capabilities"

"I think each has its own unique characteristics. Clever really if you think about it. Even if we capture one, it won't necessarily give us accurate information on the others. Hopefully we will encounter one at the Corsica Base but it won't be this one. He seems to be heading straight to the Alliance's doorstep. It's all right as long as it's still visible."

"Then its next target will most likely be the Indus Supplement Base."

"Let's hope they can hold their own. That's all we can do for now."  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
~_The Corsica base_~

"How's it going, Scottie?"

"Almost…there. Done."

"Great. If we keep on schedule, Tallgeese should be fully functional in another month."

Scottie shook her head and snorted, "Tallgeese…I still don't get where that name came from."

Walker shrugged. "I don't know…it just looks like it should be called Tallgeese…"

"You're nothing if not articulate, Walker."

"I would think you, of all people, would understand how a machine can speak to you, Scottie. I know you hate flying, but how can you work on this magnificent machine and not feel its soul?"

Scottie looked at Walker with a mixture of understanding and amusement, "Waxing a little too poetic, there, aren't you buddy?"

Walker snorted and threw a rag in the general vicinity of his friend. "Oh never mind…I have to go get cleaned up anyway."

"That's right. When will Lieutenant Zechs arrive?"

"About thirty minutes."

Seeing Walker's change in mood, Scottie asked, "What's going on? Did you meet with Captain Bonaparte about the new mobile suits Lieutenant Merquise told you about?"

"Yeah, we talked. I tried to reason with him about the potential threat. He insisted the lieutenant didn't know what he was talking about and it kind of went down hill from there."

"Meaning you called him an idiot again?"

"A fool actually."

Scottie sighed, shaking her head. "One day he's gonna haul off an toss you in the brig for insubordination, you know that don't you?"

"Maybe," Walker conceded, then grinned, "but not today. He's too caught up in trying to snub Lieutenant Merquise." Walker's light mood suddenly darkened into anger. "Do you know he actually accused His Excellency and Lieutenant Merquise of treating this like a game? That they are stirring things up on purpose just to make themselves look better?" 

Pausing to look up at the massive mobile suit he and Scottie had spent so much time repairing, Walker frowned. Bonaparte _was_ a fool. The Gundams would target this base. They had a chance to defeat those monsters once and for all if the foolish man would just let go of his hatred for the aristocratic Specials officers long enough to see the plain truth. Whatever else happened, at least Lieutenant Zechs would be able to take Tallgeese. Suddenly realizing how messy the area was, he turned back to his comrade for another favor. 

"Hey Scottie, can you…"

"I'll have this finished and the area cleaned up by the time he arrives, don't worry." Scottie grinned and shooed Walker towards the door. "You just go get ready and try not to be too nervous." 

"Not be nervous? It's _Lieutenant Zechs_!"

"Yes and you are _Lieutenant Walker_." The young woman smiled more warmly and gave her friend an affectionate shove. "And Lieutenant Walker is a skilled soldier, an excellent engineer, and a great guy."

Some of the tension seemed to seep away at her words. Scottie was always like that. Just when he thought he was so wound up he would snap at any moment, in stepped Olivia Scott with a witty remark, a kind word or a pretty smile. Today, he was favored with all three. "Thanks, Olivia."

"You're welcome, Elliot…now beat it."

With a parting grin, Elliot Walker dashed off to his quarters, showered, changed and took off on his motorcycle to meet his mentor. When he arrived at the base's perimeter, the young lieutenant was horrified to learn that Zechs was being denied entrance on Bonaparte's orders. As furious as Walker was with the situation, embarrassment superceded his anger and he found himself profusely apologizing to the lieutenant rather than reaming the stupid Alliance guards. To Walker's relief, Zechs did not seem offended by his bad treatment. 

"Don't concern yourself with the captain's behavior, Walker. I can hardly blame such a seasoned officer for holding someone like me in contempt."

"I would think such a seasoned officer, as you say, would be capable of putting aside petty jealousies for the greater good."

"I can assume then that he refuses to implement your security suggestions?"

"Yes sir, but I have ordered the Specials troops stationed here to be on full alert until further notice."

"Good job, Walker. You've done quite well for yourself, I see."

"I had a good example to live up to sir."

"I lost my Leo in the first battle with one of these Gundams. Do you have a suit that I can use?"

"Yes, lieutenant…actually, I'd like you to see something first."

            Walker ordered a car for Lieutenant Merquise and took the lead on his own motorcycle. The small convoy sped across the base to the far landing strips. Zechs was obviously curious, but refrained from asking any questions. Pleased with this show of trust, Walker guided the lieutenant through the maze of catwalks and half-repaired mobile suits until they reached Tallgeese.

"It's huge." Lieutenant Merquise remarked, his deep voice colored with a hint of wonder. Walker smiled, gratified that the lieutenant was as impressed with the suit as he had been. Walker gave the lieutenant a few moments to look the suit over in silence. While waiting, he spotted a very rumpled looking Scottie tiptoeing toward the door. He caught her eye and was about to call her over but the look on her face stopped him. In the next few moments a conversation took place between the two young officers, but not a word was spoken. Anyone who chanced to see them would have witnessed only a series of raised eyebrows, questioning head-tilts, and sternly narrowed eyes. Translated, the dialogue went something like this:

Walker raised a hand, (Scottie…)

Lieutenant Scott responded with a hasty wave down. (Shhh!!)

Walker shrugged in confusion and waved vaguely to Lieutenant Zechs, who mercifully had his back turned. (What? I just want to introduce you to…)

Scottie held her hands out in front of her dirty coveralls, gesturing harshly up and down. (I don't want to meet him with grease all over me. I'll meet him another time.)

Walker frowned and shook his head. (You look fine to me.)

Scottie grinned, flicked her hands at him and shook her head, then turned around and left. (Elliot, you're sweet, but I'm a mess. I'll meet him another time. Now shoo.)

Lieutenant Zechs turned back just as Lieutenant Scott slipped through the door and escaped further scrutiny. Walker shrugged again at his friend's silliness and turned his attention back to Tallgeese. 

"We believe it is the prototype for all mobile suits. It's larger than Leo in all dimensions, but still very similar. It does, however, posses extended flight capability and more sophisticated navigational systems. It's an old machine, but in many ways more advanced than anything currently in use. When you sent us the data on Gundam, it reminded me of this one, which the local engineers call a historical artifact."

"You've been personally in charge of this, Walker?" 

"I used to be an engineer myself. This machine is the only one having features comparable to those of the Gundam's. I don't know the details of how it was designed. The only thing I know is that, in order to strengthen the structural integrity, the mobile suit has to be this large. Engineers in the past decided that there was no need for a stronger body, so they came up with the current standard size of mobile suit. We've been calling this prototype, Tallgeese."

Zechs nodded in apparent appreciation of the name. "If we can somehow complete this suit, do you think it can compete with Gundam? 

"Yes, sir. I think this is the only suit in OZ's arsenal that _could_ compete with a Gundam.  Please, sir, take it with you. That fool Bonaparte won't listen to reason."

"Don't think too badly of him, Walker. Old school soldiers such as Bonaparte aren't prepared for this new era of fighting. Are you sure you wish to turn over the prototype?"

"If you don't take it with you, the enemy will maintain the upperhand."   
            "I wish I could stay and join you in the fight, Walker."

            "You told me once: Fight for the future soldier. That is my principal now. We will stay behind and fight. Once Tallgeese is finished you will have a weapon worthy of your skill."

            "You are much braver than I am, Walker." 

The younger lieutenant felt a burst of pride at the praise but at the same time he couldn't help feeling that Zechs would like nothing better than to take on all of the Gundams himself. One of the drawbacks of command, Walker assumed, was the distance from battle. As prudent as it was to ensure that the leader remained alive and fit to lead, it must be frustrating for a true soldier to sit by and watch as others fought.

"How many were you told to expect, Walker?"

"As you taught me, I'm always prepared for the maximum number of enemies. Our last report indicated that four Gundams had been sighted."

"Correct. There will be at least four, but there is a fifth that is unaccounted for at present. That's all I know. Sorry, Walker."

"Don't be, that's good enough. Lt. Zechs...thank you, sir…for everything."

Zechs smiled and shook the younger man's hand with genuine amity. "Good luck." 

Lieutenant Merquise excused himself and headed for his transport. Walker made his way to the mobile suit hanger and stared the flight check on his suit. The battle would come soon, he was certain, and regardless of the captain's stupidity, the base would be ready. As Walker ran the list on his suit and prepared for the upcoming attack, he spied Olivia Scott crossing the tarmac. He smiled fondly as she approached, remembering how far they had come together. Together they had grown from uncertainty and shyness to grace and skill. From gawky, clumsy children into self-assured adults. Practically adults anyway. He was still hoping for that last two inch growth spurt. 

"Scottie." Walker set aside his clipboard and walked forward to meet his friend. "Checking up on me?"

"Of course," Scottie teased, "don't want you running out of gas now do we?"

They laughed half-heartedly at the lame joke and fell silent for a few moments before Scottie gathered enough courage to speak. 

"So you really believe we're next?"

"Yeah. Lieutenant Zechs confirmed as much before he left."

The young woman nodded solemnly. "I was in my first skirmish right out of the Academy, so I learned the hard way that if you don't say your goodbyes before a battle you might not get the chance." Scottie took Walker's hand, grasping it tightly between her own and whispered, "Goodbye, Elliot."

Walker smiled reassuringly and decided to take her earlier statement to heart. If he didn't show Olivia Scott how he felt while he had the chance, he might never have the opportunity. Walker leaned forward and kissed the girl gently but soundly, then pulled her into a firm embrace, whispering into her hair, "Goodbye, Olivia." They remained in each other's arms for several sweet moments before the commotion around them intruded. 

"Be careful," Lieutenant Scott ordered as she stepped back and saluted.

"You too, Lieutenant."

Scottie turned on her heel and returned to her own post in the air traffic control tower. Walker ran all of the necessary checks, then spoke to his fellow Specials officers and waited for the threat to materialize. As it turned out, they didn't have to wait that long. Without warning, the eastern section of the base complex erupted into flames punctuated by explosions and gunfire. Walker suited up and double-checked his readouts. It was time. 

"Specials! Confirming enemy attack. Everyone, come with me!"  
One junior officer seemed surprised by the order despite Walker's earlier briefing. "But there's only one."

"Don't be stupid!" Walker barked as his suit started out, "One is enough."  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Concealed hanger, south of Corsica Base~_  
  


"The transport is all set, lieutenant. Ready to go anytime."

Zechs stood at the railing, gazing out over the chaos in the distance. They were far enough away that the sounds were muted, but the view was clear. Huge balls of fire erupted in waves around the base followed by thick columns of black smoke. Suit after suit fell to the wrath of the Gundam. It was the third suit, one that seemed incapable of flight, but better armed than any of the others. Machine guns, bazooka's, beam saber…definitely over kill. 

 "Any news on Bonaparte?

"He was reported to have escaped. Lt. Zechs, if you are considering joining the fight, I'll fight with you in the Leo."

"No."

"But lieutenant…"

"Stop it, Otto." Zechs ordered harshly, turning away again he muttered, "You're just making this more difficult."

"Sir?"

"I'm about to convince myself to protect this prototype and…it's humiliating, but…" He turned, and for the first time looked at Otto directly, "I need your help."

Otto sensed the gravity of Zechs' request and responded simply, "Yes, sir," and saluted. After one long moment of hesitation, Zechs returned the salute and walked back inside.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~Corsica Base~_  
  


The battle raged on for more than two hours despite the fact that the enemy consisted of one mobile suit. As Walker knew, however, one was enough. The wreckage around him proved that fact even to the arrogant Captain Bonaparte. Walker shook his head as Lieutenant Scott relayed news that the captain's dirigible was safely out of firing range. At least Bonaparte finally recognized his error, that provided Walker some amount of satisfaction, he just wished the elder man had realized this before half the base was destroyed. 

His commanding officer safely out of harm's way, Walker turned his attention back to the battle. Two-thirds of the Specials had been eliminated so far and the enemy was still firing. As he fought, the young lieutenant made certain that all available data on the suit's weaponry and capabilities were transmitted in a constant stream. Their losses were staggering, but if enough information could be gathered about this new threat, perhaps the same scene would not be played out again. Walker was determined that this threat ended right there. 

As the remaining OZ troops struggled to hold their own, Walker noticed a sudden change in the enemy's battle strategy. He was firing less, relying instead on closer confrontations with the suits. He was running out of ammunition. A sudden spike of hope jolted through the young officer and he ordered his men to tighten their formation and prepare for a new assault. He kept them at a cautious distance, knowing that the enemy pilot could very well be setting them up. Another thirty minutes and the battle seemed over, the enemy out of ammunition and surrounded. Just as Walker was about to order more assistance in taking the suit into custody, one of his younger pilots jumped the gun. 

"Looks like it's out of bullets! Great! We have a chance! I'll show you what Specials are capable of!"

Walker almost shrieked in frustration as he watched the Specials pilot charge towards the enemy suit. "You fool! Why do you have to make such a mistake _now_?"

But it was too late. Just as the Specials pilot was about to deliver the death blow, he was ripped apart from behind. The new suit was the same size, but in lieu of a beam saber or machine guns, it wielded two scimitars. It spun, slicing through the Leos one by one as it proceeded to take up where its comrade failed. 

"Lieutenant Walker!" Scottie's voice blared across the comlinks, "Sensors indicate twenty suits surrounding the base…" Before Lieutenant Scott could finish the warning, the sound of gunfire and breaking glass drowned her out. One large crashing noise, a shriek of pain piercing his eardrums, reverberating through his head and muting all other sound. It was over in an instant, but Scottie's scream echoed in his ears for what seemed like an eternity. She was dead. Walker was suddenly overcome by a violent, burning fury. It was time to end it. All of it. 

With a enraged howl, Walker flung his Leo towards the second suit, firing his bazooka first and then dropping it in favor of his beam saber. It was a mismatched duel at best. At worst a massacre, but Walker didn't care anymore. Suddenly he found himself trapped between the glinting curved blades of the Gundam's scimitars. He could hear the outer hull cracking, screaming its protest to the pressure, but the Leo's arms were still free and Walker managed to deliver a few impotent blows to the enemy suit. 

"Come on, damn it! I want to see your strength, before I die!"

Walker struggled with his suit's controls, fighting to the very end as all good soldiers should. He knew it was useless, but he needed to fight. Even as the Leo broke apart, as the cockpit caught fire and he found himself engulfed in the lapping flames, he fought. Just before the machine exploded, Walker thought he heard something, a soft voice on the comlink, whispering…

"I'm sorry."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_~A few hours later. Concealed hanger south of Corsica base ~_

  
            Zechs Merquise and Otto Weir stood overlooking the devastation suffered by the Corsica mobile suit factory, both frustrated with their inability to assist their comrades. Beyond this, however, Zechs also felt slightly awed, not an easy emotion to elicit in the experienced officer. He had been baptized in blood early in life, witnessing such destruction on a regular basis, but this was not a typical skirmish between equally matched military forces. Two Gundams, only two, but backed up by an unknown squad of land suits designed for desert battle. Together they laid waste to a base covering three square miles, employing over five hundred soldiers. The fires still burned brightly, the smoke rising above in ominous pillars, obscuring the carnage. Zechs could never find beauty in such a scene as Treize could, but there was a certain amount of grace to it all, despite the violence. An elegance to the movements of the well crafted suits.  

"The observation post just sent this report sir."

Zechs scanned the report, noting the casualty number. The Corsica base lay in ruins, no survivors. Walker. "_Walker, you won't be forgotten,_" Zechs thought solemnly, "_We lost this battle, but we will win this war_." 

"Sir? Should we try to leave now or wait for the Gundams to leave and hope they don't discover this hanger?"

"I doubt they would have attacked this area without being fully briefed on the layout. Ready the transport and be prepared to leave on my command."

"Yes, sir."

            Zechs boarded the transport and ordered a surveillance feed of the Corsica base, hoping for some distraction so that he might take Tallgeese and leave. To his utter shock, the distraction came from the two Gundams. Just as it seemed the two were about to prevail and take complete control of the devastated base, they attacked each other. As the violence escalated, Zechs gave the hasty order to launch. Just as he hoped, the two suits were too caught up in their own struggle to notice his ship slipping away until it was too late. 

As his ship climbed to cruising altitude,  Zechs wearily leaned back into his seat and considered his options. He needed time to regroup in a place where the prototype—Tallgeese Walker nicknamed it—could be repaired away from the over-watchful eyes of the Alliance regulars. There was only one place he could work without fear of Alliance scrutiny and only one person he could trust to help. Only one person who would welcome him without need for coercion, bribery or explanations. Directing his attention back to his crew, Zechs ordered the plane to change course, heading south. New destination: Lake Victoria.

"Lieutenant Otto."

"Yes, sir?"

"Send this message to Lake Victoria Base," Zechs paused to hand a small leaf of paper to the older pilot, "inform them of our ETA. Send it to the attention of Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin."

"Yes, Sir."

            So finally he was on his way to see her. The idea was suddenly disconcerting and he found himself fidgeting in his seat. Over a year. He knew how much he changed in that time, but what of Noin? How well had his plan to distance himself from his childhood confidante worked? Most likely much better than he was comfortable with. He was the Lightning Count, an aristocrat of Romefellar. Hated by the jealous officers of the Alliance who detested his ability to win the undying loyalty of his men and the admiration of the public. Noin was a respected teacher, adored by her students, but ignored by the prejudiced upperclass who frowned upon the idea of a commoner in their high ranks.  In station and circumstance they were as far apart as the Colonies and the Earth. They had little in common now. She would simply be an officer aiding him in the effort to develop a Gundam for OZ. That was all. No need for awkwardness or discomfort. None at all. 

            So why the hell was he so nervous?

==================== End Chapter 11 =====================

Oh please. You knew they were going to die. 

Next episode: "The Victoria Nightmare."  Episode 4! Lots of Zechs/Noin yumminess! I hope you like my version of the "tap, tap" scene.

_A note from Disclaimer Hell:_  I don't own Gundam Wing. If you try to sue me, I'll write you into one of my stories so I can kill you off.  


	12. The Lake Victoria Nightmare

AN: Okay, Zechs and Noin finally meet again, but don't expect all daisies and sunshine. What? You thought I was going to have them run, slow-mo, into each other's arms? [snorts at the mental image] Not a chance. I also tried my hand at writing [gasp, faint] _Wufei_, and I think I did okay. 

AN 2: I made a minor change to the last chapter. I re-wrote the conversation the Commander had with his daughter. It isn't hugely important now, but a few details will be important later to explain the Commander's motives. You might want to re-read that part before you start.

AN 3: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story through all the delays, site outages and bad spelling. Thanks to everyone who has recommended my stories to other Z/N fanatics. I appreciate all of the reviews very much and I'm glad to know the story is still holding your interest. THANKS!!!!!!!  Special thank you to Kei the Incarnadine Goddess for giving me a heads up about an annoyingly consistent misspelling. Yes, it should be 'Pisces,' not 'pieces' [grumble] damn spell check… speaking of which, I didn't have a chance to have this beta read as I normally do, so it might contain several mistakes. If you notice anything, please email me with specifics. I'd really appreciate it. 

Episode reference: Episode 4 **Still Grows the Lilac**

Part II of the Lilac Princess

_Chapter 12_

_The Lake Victoria Nightmare_

======================

_~ Personal transport of Zechs Merquise, somewhere over Africa~_

"So, we've lost him?"

"Yes, sir. The fifth Gundam vanished past the equator."

Zechs Merquise frowned down at the report in his hands. Anyone watching would have noticed no great change in the young man's demeanor and, with the obstruction of his mask, no change in expression, but the lieutenant was frustrated all the same. OZ had been able to track only one Gundam throughout the entire ordeal and then it, too, disappeared. The suit popped up again briefly near the continent of Africa, but vanished once more. That rebel pilot was obviously toying with them. If he could evade Alliance radar, he could remain hidden. The fact that the suit was detected only proved that the pilot was playing games, goading his adversaries. Understanding this didn't make it any less annoying.

"Lieutenant Otto, you're certain it is the same suit spotted in China?"

"Yes, the energy signature and movement patterns are identical to the Gundam designated 05."

"He's headed for Noin." Zechs mumbled, glancing up in time to spot Otto's raised eyebrows. Straightening himself up in his seat, Zechs cleared his throat and tried to explain the comment without actually acknowledging the slip. "The mobile suit training facility at Lake Victoria is a perfect target. I'm surprised it wasn't attacked in the first volley."

Otto shook his head. "The base commander there is being too imprudent. Every school child knows the new Taurus space mobile suits are manufactured at Victoria. Security there is too lax."

"And now we're on our way there. I understand your concern, but it is the only place I feel is secluded enough to complete the repairs to Tallgeese without risking discovery by the Alliance regulars."

"You and Lieutenant Noin were classmates at Lake Victoria Military Academy, weren't you sir?"

Zechs started imperceptibly, furrowing his brows beneath the safety of his mask. Personal questions put him on his guard on a good day, but coming from a man who could very well expose him to the world was decidedly unnerving. Despite this, Zechs managed to respond evenly. "I'm surprised you knew."

"Every one in the Specials has heard of the two top scoring cadets of all time, sir. You and Lieutenant Noin are legends among pilots. You, especially, for having won top honors, though from what I understand it was a close race up until the very end."

"Yes," Zechs said quietly, allowing a moment of nostalgia to take over, "Noin was always challenging me to do better. We were quite competitive, but I learned more from her than most of the instructors." 

Silence fell once more and Zechs found himself lost in thoughts of his old friend. A year now. No, it was longer. He left Earth about three weeks prior to his eighteenth birthday and he was scheduled to arrive at Lake Victoria the day of his nineteenth. Zechs thought about that for a long time as the flight continued. Nineteen. Many of his contemporaries were just starting life as college students or being formally introduced into society in the old aristocratic way. He had worked his way through the ranks—albeit the upper ranks—of OZ to acquire his own command and lead soldiers into battle. He didn't feel like a teenager, or at least what he assumed most teenagers would feel. Zechs couldn't honestly say he ever felt young and at this point in his life, when everything should be fresh and blooming with possibility, he felt old, ancient and hard. He wondered vaguely if Noin felt the same. She had fought in almost as many battles as he, had led men to their deaths, but she spent the past year nurturing young people. She had never been like him in that respect. Noin was a person full of hope and compassion, qualities that gave her the capacity to reach out to a person like Zechs Merquise. A year out of combat may have dulled her soldier's instincts. Still, she had always possessed an almost uncanny tactical aptitude, even before military training honed her natural abilities to razor sharpness. Her battle reflexes may have atrophied, but Zechs was certain Noin still possessed a brilliant strategic mind and he could certainly use a fresh opinion on the Gundam situation.

"Otto, send all of the data we have on the Gundams to Lake Victoria to the attention of Lieutenant Noin. Make certain the report regarding the location of this specific suit is the first transmitted. I want them to be prepared for an attack. Don't use the comlink. Send an encrypted text message." Zechs looked on as Otto began typing the message. A sudden and inexplicable wave of uncertainty washed over Lieutenant Merquise as he watched his subordinate prepare the message for Lucretzia Noin. "And Otto…don't sign my name. Send it as a Specials general alert instead." 

"Yes sir," Otto responded, frowning in obvious confusion. Perhaps it was a bit cowardly of him to send the information through the common network, but Zechs was certain that everyone stationed at LVA was already aware of his impending arrival. Sending personal communiqués to Instructor Noin might spark an unwelcome wave of gossip he was not in the mood to deal with just then. That plus the fact that he did not want to appear too forward. Noin was a congenial person, but also one who did not brook liberties taken at the expense of her reputation. It wasn't something he had to consider a year ago, but things were different now and, though he had no intention of renewing their old camaraderie, Zechs also did not want to cause unnecessary offense. They were, after all, officers of OZ and that meant a certain adherence to the established rules of decorum. There was the possibility that the two would see little of each other while he was at the base. She was a busy instructor and graduation was looming near. He had Tallgeese to think about. It might be that they only met in passing a few times before his task was complete and he left to meet with His Excellency in Brussels. There. Simple as that. He was foolish to think there might be a problem.

As Otto sent the message, Zechs leaned back in his seat, mulling over the situation. A great deal had happened in the past weeks. Aside from the massive assault on Corsica and other military targets across the world, news had reached Zechs of a rebel pilot's capture. During the effort to retrieve the first Gundam, the Alliance salvage teams were completely annihilated by the second confirmed rebel suit, which also managed to escape with the damaged 01. Apparently, the pilot of 01 had ejected before the suit plunged into the ocean and somehow made it to shore and evaded capture for at least two weeks before boldly attempting to blow up an Alliance munitions port. The rebel was badly injured in the assault and promptly caught. At last report, the pilot—a fifteen year old boy according to Zechs' informant—was currently under the careful watch at an Alliance medical facility in Kyoto. 

            Zechs had only been mildly surprised by his adversary's youth, having been an accomplished fighter pilot himself by that age. What really surprised the older man was the fact that the pilot allowed himself to be captured alive. Given the force of the explosion at the port, it seemed likely that the rebel was unconscious at the time of his capture and that the effort to escape or kill himself would begin the moment he opened his eyes once more. That was certain to be quite a game, Zechs mused, and he did not envy the Alliance officers charged with the interrogation. They would, at best, be demoted for allowing the rebel to escape and, at worst, dead by morning. Either way, Zechs was certain he would have the chance to do battle with the young man again, but for now his priority was to complete Tallgeese to ensure he had a worthy weapon for that next time and so he was on his way to Lake Victoria Base, home of the best engineers in OZ. 

            Of course this meant meeting Noin again.

            That was unavoidable.

            But, as he already established, hardly a problem.

            At least that was what he told himself as the young woman's image continued to spring unbidden to mind. Zechs kept remembering the last time he saw Lucretzia Noin. Not at his official departure ceremony, but rather the night before. Noin, dressed in an evening gown that almost—but not quite—captured the color of her eyes. Standing abruptly, Zechs forcibly dispelled the image along with a host others and turned his attention back to the task at hand, more specifically, Tallgeese. He walked through the narrow passage to the cargo hold and gazed down at Tallgeese as he leaned heavily upon the catwalk railing. 

            It was almost finished. Walker's crew had managed to install most of the operating systems and bring everything on line. Zechs himself had completed the upgrades to the computer system, tweaking it to his own specifications and readjusting the navigational controls to his own preference. All that remained was to attach the primary navigational array—the head—and complete the mechanical connections to the suit's limbs. He paced restlessly along the catwalk, then leapt over the rail, landing gracefully in front of his new mobile suit. He walked around Tallgeese, mentally checking off the list of repairs completed compared to those still needed. Two weeks, perhaps three…yes, three weeks and the graceful giant would be ready for field-testing. He looked forward to getting behind the controls of that suit. His mouth fairly watered at the thought. The idea that anyone else would pilot the suit was so absurd at this point that the possibility did not even occur to Zechs. No, Tallgeese was his and no one else. He felt connected to the suit in some way, an almost mystical pull from the first moment he laid eyes upon the machine. This was his destiny, he could feel it. Tallgeese would be the means by which Zechs could right the old wrongs that haunted him so incessantly. 

            But first, he had to get the mobile suit fixed and for that he needed help. Not just engineers, either, he needed someone with the knowledge of an engineer and the instincts of a pilot. Walking over to the ship's intercom system, he contacted the cockpit.

            "Otto, did you receive conformation that the last message was received?"

"Yes sir. It has been delivered."

Zechs stood mute for a few moments, debating whether or not he should contradict himself so quickly.

"What is our ETA?"

"We should arrive at Victoria base in three hours sir."

Zechs nodded. "Lieutenant, wait two hours and then place another call to Lake Victoria Base."

            "Visual or audio, lieutenant?"  
            "Visual…and patch it to this comlink when you have established the connection."

            "Yes sir. Should I ask for the commanding officer?"

            "No," Zechs replied, hesitating briefly before adding, "Ask for Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin."

=====================

_~Lake Victoria Academy~ _

            Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin, Lake Victoria Academy's top flight instructor, stood silently listening to her best student respond to a particularly difficult question. Wylocek's answer, Noin was glad to say, was correct. The young instructor had developed the question in her first few weeks of teaching as a way of determining the creative thinking of her students. Learning the technicalities of battle flight was all well and good, but the true test lay in how well one thinks under duress. The first step in determining if her students were ready for training in actual mobile suits was The Question, a pop test she sprang on her students just when they were least expecting it and naturally all of her students dreaded the day. Out of this particular group, only Wylocek had managed to hit upon the proper answer and Noin prevailed upon him to read his answer aloud for the benefit for his classmates.

            Noin never outwardly played favorites among the cadets, but she did admit to being particularly fond of Christopher Wylocek. He was a cadet after her own heart, not because the boy viewed her with a sort of awe-struck admiration, though Noin was flattered, but because of his unwavering tenacity in striving towards his ultimate goal: going to space. She understood that ambition well and, though her own dream had been all but thwarted, Noin still bore the same love for space that sustained her throughout those first difficult years in the military.

Cadet Wylocek completed his answer and earned a light nod of approval from his favorite instructor before the class was dismissed. Just as the last of her students trickled out towards the cafeteria, a messenger arrived from the base compound on the opposite side of the practice field. As it was a personal communication, Noin received the paper with a certain amount of alarm. The only personal messages she received were from her friends in Rome, Paolo and Sister Marguerite, and those messages were delivered with the regular post. This message was marked 'urgent' and for a split second, Noin had the sick feeling that it was an announcement that one of her friends had been hurt. To her relief, it was instead a warning regarding the five rebel mobile suits terrorizing the planet. She frowned, wondering why a general alert had been sent to her attention only, but then it dawned on her. 

Zechs Merquise. She smirked to herself before reading the message. About time he condescended to send her a note. Despite her numerous duties with the Academy and the adjoining OZ base, Noin still managed to keep track of her oldest friend and knew he had been back on Earth for almost a month. Not that it was much of an effort keeping tabs. Everyone seemed to know about the Lightning Count's exploits and not a day went by that she did not hear some small tidbit of news about what OZ's favorite son, or second favorite at least, was up to and what new glories he brought to the Specials. In spite of her long association with the young officer—or perhaps because of it—Noin found herself growing more star struck herself. His accomplishments on Earth, though impressive, paled in comparison to his extraordinary achievements in space. 

Her pleasure was replaced by a renewed sense of concern as she read the message. It was indeed a warning.  The OZ base at Lake Victoria was marked as a target by the mysterious mobile suits called Gundams. Noin had suspected as much when word reached the base of the unidentified mobile suits weeks ago. She spent the past few days trying to convince her superiors—with varying degrees of success—that the base was at risk and, through proximity, so was the small town nearby. Now, armed with Zechs' warning, she decided to try again and headed for the base commander's office. Noin was pleased to find the mayor of the nearby village, Mr. Otumba, already present. The lieutenant felt the both of them had a better chance if they presented a united front to the commander, Colonel Marco Petrovsky. Unfortunately, the colonel not only knew of the situation, he had been ordered to take only perfunctory action and seemed satisfied to follow the order without further thought. Noin proceeded to spend the next hour explaining the prudence of taking a few precautions, but had so far achieved little success.

            "But sir! You must see…"

"Lieutenant Noin," Colonel Petrovsky cut in calmly, raising his hand to silence the young woman, "I understand your reservations and your cautious nature serves this base well, but Colonel Une herself issued this order. I have no reason to think that her security measures will be ineffective against these new mobile suits."

Noin, on the other hand, knew the security measures would be _decidedly_ ineffective and suspected that was the intent. To someone such as Colonel Petrovsky, a man with limited battle experience at best, the new orders seemed to be an effort to prepare OZ bases for possible attacks by the new terrorist threat. To Noin, a seasoned pilot and battle commander, it seemed more like an attempt to alert the Gundams, to Lake Victoria's exact location. The base was being set up as bait, she was certain of that. What worried the lieutenant was the seeming lack of movement by OZ to create the expected trap. It was possible that the base was going to be sacrificed simply to garner public support for the already admired Specials. If the base successfully warded off an attack, then the credit would belong to His Excellency. If they failed—and Noin had the sickening premonition that would be the case—then they were martyrs to be held out as a rallying banner for Romefellar. See how bravely they died. Come join us and defeat the threat. Glory to OZ.

"Sir, at least consider the civilians in the town."

"Yes, lieutenant, Mayor Otumba and I were discussing that very thing when you arrived," Petrovsky nodded towards another man standing quietly to Noin's right. The mayor of the nearby village was a tall, regal-looking man of about fifty. He and his family had lived in that area near Lake Victoria for centuries, long before European colonialism, through a millennium of war, famine and now Alliance dominance. If history taught Mr. Otumba nothing else, it was how to persevere. 

"Yes, Miss Noin. The commander and I have discussed the situation and come to the same conclusion."

Mayor Otumba nodded as he spoke, but Noin could tell from the man's rather forced smile that the mayor was more inclined to Noin's point of view. Seeing that he was getting no where with the short sighted base commander, the mayor chose instead to take his leave asking for Noin to serve as his escort to the gate. She brooded most of the way, annoyed with her lack of diplomacy in trying to convince Petrovsky to be more prudent. She had, after all, been trained in such matters in Rome. She should have had more success, but then she was up against Lady Une. Men like Petrovsky admired Une on many levels, as a noblewoman as well as a decorated field officer. Une had bloodline and seniority on her side. Noin had only her gut feeling and the warning from Zechs. Who was she compared to Lady Aneke Une? Nothing more than a war orphan of dubious birth, a mustang who was lucky enough to catch a break and make it out of the Alliance infantry.

The young officer had never enjoyed, much less approved of, the manipulations and duplicity so favored by OZ's political wing, Romefellar. To most of the aristocracy, war was a beautiful chess game, to be won at all costs but played elegantly. Most of them, however, had no real experience with war. As the Alliance encroached on their kingdoms, most of the nobility surrendered without a fight, choosing collaboration over principle. There were very few kingdoms who followed the example of Cinq and fewer rulers who adhered to the teachings of the fallen King Peacecraft. Most resistance was offered by countries with a long history of democratic rule, and even so, it was violent resistance frowned upon by the pacifist monarch. Add to this, the lack of unity among these few defiant nations and the Alliance won its victories with relative ease. 

Those who survived the massacres and destruction bided their time, pouring their resources into Romefeller and OZ. All of their resources, money, position, even their children. They believed, as a rule, that their day would come again, that the pendulum would swing back, as it did in all revolutions, and return to the power and prestige to which they were born. History was a cycle to them, always returning to the beginning. Eventually, they would regain their rightful place and if it meant the annihilation of their children, so be it.

As Noin walked beside the tall man, she allowed some of her apprehension to surface. "Mr. Otumba, it might be best for the citizens of the town if you ordered an evacuation, just temporarily, until we—until _I_—can be certain that these Gundams are not a threat to you.

"Thank you for your concern Miss Noin. I must admit to being uncomfortable with the lack of anxiety on your commander's part."

"It isn't that he is unconcerned for your people's safety, sir, just that he is a man who follows orders too blindly. If his superiors say that there is no threat, then he will believe them…right up until the moment the enemy holds a gun to his head. I'm so sorry that your town has to be caught up in this mess.

The mayor waved away her apology kindly.  "No, Miss Noin, please don't apologize. I knew exactly what I was getting my people into when we contracted to build this base. We are a poor community. The jobs and other revenue generated by this base have been a benefit to us all, but I knew it might come to this one day. I'll call a town meeting tonight." Mr. Otumba paused, running a hand over his bald head and sighing. "I think we can have the entire town evacuated in two days…assuming we have enough vehicles to transport everyone."

"I'll requisition a few transport vehicles and have them brought to you tomorrow morning, along with whatever supplies I can manage to liberate."

"You are very kind, Lucretzia." Mayor Otumba suddenly smiled broadly, "Hard to believe that young snippet of a cadet who insisted on riding that motorcycle so wildly through the streets of my town has turned into such a accomplished young officer." The older man smiled affectionately and shook Noin's hand. "It has been a privilege knowing such a promising young person."

"The privilege is mine, sir…and sorry about the wheel tracks I left in your flower bed."

"That was you? I always thought it was the other one, that tow-headed boy you were always with…what was his name?"

"Zechs Merquise."

"Ah yes! Another one who has gone on to glory despite a reckless youth. You two certainly kept us on our toes."

"With the way we drove that bike, you had to be on your toes or get run over."

They shared a hearty laugh at the memory as Noin escorted the mayor to the base check-in gate. They spoke a few moments on how best to evacuate the population of the town, then Mr. Otumba took his leave. Noin immediately headed for the motor pool to "borrow" a couple of transports. One of the few things OZ had in common with the Alliance was the obnoxious group of requisition officers—anal little bureaucrats who obsessed over every paperclip on the list. Noin had learned how to bypass this distasteful channel when she really needed something. A youth spent in refugee camps and on the streets had taught her to be cagey in such matters. Among her old comrades in the mobile suit corps, she was known as a top-class scrounger, able to get almost anything at almost anytime. Few knew that Zechs Merquise was equally adept at such things, but as the leader, it was not something he felt befitted his rank and so left the job to Noin. Not that she objected. She thought it was fun actually and it gave her satisfaction to outwit and outmaneuver bureaucrats, however insignificant. 

Noin cracked her knuckles, tugged at her uniform and swaggered off to speak to the poor unsuspecting victim…err, requisition officer. 

========================

_~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~_

            To say that the Commander was angry would be an understatement of catastrophic proportions. He was beyond angry, he was cold with fury and just plain pissed. One of his well-trained, perfect soldiers was missing. He hadn't just been cut off accidentally as was the case with the pilot placed with the Sweepers, nor had he been captured like Dr. J's pet project. This pilot purposely defied all orders and attacked his own targets. At that moment, the project leader, Dr. J, was desperately trying to explain how one of their perfect weapons had managed to go rogue.

"His last words to S indicated that he would follow only Nataku's orders."

"Nataku?"

"Yes, it would seem he has even renamed the Gundam to suit his own vision of…"

"Where _is_ he?" the Commander interrupted, his anger increasing rapidly. The doctor paused before slowly responding.

"He hasn't been in contact with anyone since he left the colony."

"What about his handler? Doesn't he have the access codes to the suit's communication system?  He _built_ the damned thing didn't he?!"

"Yes, he has the codes…he has been transmitting to the boy and all indications are that the messages are being received by the Gundam, but the pilot refuses to acknowledge any of us."

"Find that Gundam, doctor," the Commander leaned forward as he spoke in his cool, menacing way, "I won't have that rebellious brat destroying what I have given my life and my blood to build, do you understand? If he can't be controlled, then I will initiate the self-destruct sequence in his suit myself."

"Now don't be hasty, commander." The doctor raised his good hand slightly, as though to ward off the anger radiating from his colleague. The commander had no intention of being calmed or convinced to give the boy any chance of destroying their carefully laid plans.

"I programmed the self-destruct sequences for all five suits _personally_, and I did that for a reason, doctor. I allow only as much latitude as I think appropriate. After that, if the pilot refuses to obey, I will not hesitate to use those codes to destroy the pilot and the entire Gundam if I deem it necessary to ensure the success of this mission. Have I made myself clear?"  

"I think you're overreacting."

"No you don't. You're simply concerned that one of your 'remarkable feats of engineering' will be destroyed. You don't give a damn about that boy." Once again the commander leaned close to the monitor, callous determination dripping from every word. "Get that brat under control, doctor, or I will."

========================

_~Lake Victoria Academy~_

After making the necessary arrangements, or bribes depending on one's point of view, on behalf of the nearby town, Lieutenant Noin started back to her quarters in the instructors' housing complex. As she entered her comfortable two room apartment, Noin plopped down on a nearby chair and tugged off the knee high boots she was forced to wear. She never outgrew her dislike of shoes in general, but the stiff patent boots His Excellency insisted on were little more than torture devices with a high polish. Finally free of the offending footwear, Noin rid herself of her uniform jacket and under tunic, leaving her dressed in her white uniform pants and tank top. 

"Home sweet home," she mumbled to herself as she slouched sideways in the armchair, hooking her legs over the arm in a very unladylike manner. She kicked her feet and smiled wistfully to herself. Sister Marguerite would give her a disapproving glare if she could see her wild child sitting in such a way. So would Nana Ingrid for that matter. Thoughts of the two women filled her mind now, gradually leading her thoughts to Zechs. 

Zechs was coming. One year, twenty-one days and, she glanced at the clock, fourteen hours. He would arrive on their birthday no less. The message she received was concise and professional, detailing what she needed to know about the threat to LVA, yet it was addressed to her personally, not the commandant. Zechs most likely sent it to her because he knew Petrovsky wasn't likely to ignore previous orders from a superior on the word of a lieutenant, even one of his caliber, but she couldn't help feeling that he was coming to see _her_, that Zechs needed her in some way. Perhaps she was flattering herself. After all, it had been over a year and not once had Zechs Merquise attempted to contact his old friend. Not that she had expected anything of the sort. She knew when he left that he intended to fling himself into his duties with a new zeal. She knew he was secretly glad of the distance because it was easier to accomplish his goal. No distractions. No laughter, or companionship, no stolen kisses when they fancied themselves alone. Nothing to divide his attention from the goal he set for himself at the age of eleven. Revenge. 

Of course she hadn't made his escape an easy one. She didn't do anything silly like attempt one last personal farewell as he inspected his troops for the last time. She saluted and addressed him as 'sir' just like everyone else. No hint that she expected to see him again or that she refused to allow him to sever their ties so completely and irrevocably. She didn't even mention the fact that he would miss their shared birthday for the first time in years. Noin just wished she could have seen the look on his face when Zechs opened that suit case and found her birthday present tucked neatly among his uniforms. Even now the thought made her snort. It wasn't the gift itself that mattered, but rather the fact that she refused to let the holiday pass unacknowledged. She had made a present for him every year since they were six, not even giving up the tradition when it was likely that Zechs had been executed. Not once had she forgotten their birthday and Noin wanted her friend to know she never would.

Noin smiled, a little smugly, to herself. She had a present for this birthday as well, one she bought on impulse a couple of months previous, intending to send it to him in space. Now she could present it in person and enjoy the look on his face. It was definitely something Lieutenant Merquise would never, _ever_, buy for himself but exactly the sort of present he needed. A year of media canonization had to have taken its toll on even Zechs' modesty. He always had a tiny streak of conceit and a so much praise heaped on him must have fed that latent arrogance. Noin's birthday present was intended as a reminder. She wanted Zechs to remember where he came from and how far he had truly come in the past ten years…and that she had been by his side most of that time. It was her way of reminding him that no matter the distance or time separating them, she was always there. 

Noin let her thoughts wander from that point, remembering other birthdays, her mind lingering over one in particular. This memory invariably brought a fond smile to her lips and drew her thoughts onward to another evening. The night they said goodbye to be exact. The frantic kiss goodbye, their first real grown-up kiss. Her face flushed at the sudden memory, as it always did when she remembered that last evening together before he left Earth. As a rule, Noin tried not to dwell in memories too much, for many reasons, but alone in her room, relaxing, waiting, she felt the need to replay those all too rare moments of her life when she felt safe and calm. 

Her life at LVA was often hectic, sometimes lonely, and those memories were her private sanctuary. Not that she sat in her room at night brooding. She socialized with the other instructors. Being the youngest, she had difficulty fitting in among them, but there were a few younger instructors, no more than four years her senior, who asked her out regularly. She went to the movies once or twice a month one young man, occasionally going for coffee or dancing with another. Nothing serious, but she did know how to have a good time when she wanted and it was a relief to leave behind the stuffy uniforms and stuffier atmosphere of the base.

Noin hauled herself off the too comfortable sofa and headed for her bedroom. She had another class in thirty-five minutes and couldn't afford to be late. Her third-years were practicing zero-g navigation in preparation for space assignments. This was the next to last lesson before graduation, the last lesson before Zechs arrived, and she wanted to make certain they were ready. It was her first graduating class and she wanted them to be the best. She changed into the pristine white under-suit worn beneath pressurized space suits and headed across the compound to the subterranean training facilities. This was her favorite course, just as it had been when she was a cadet. There was just something about floating weightless, suspended. Something reassuring, free and calming. It always reminded her of that safe, calm feeling she used to get when she was a little girl floating in the bathtub. 

            She stood gracefully and watched her students from outside the practice chamber. Being able to stand, let alone gracefully, inside what amounted to a large, high speed elevator diving and rising miles below the surface was a feat in and of itself. Only long practice afforded Noin the ability to ignore the inertia. The observation room had the benefit of a limited artificial gravity which allowed anyone outside the practice chamber to at least remain rooted to one spot. Still, the constant motion, hours upon end, eventually caused even Noin's stomach to lurch, so she ordered a break and gave her cadets a few moments to either gain their bearings or wretch, whichever gave them the most relief. Evidently, most of these cadets chose the latter. Noin covered her mouth in a valiant attempt not to laugh at her poor, green-faced cadets. The communications relay behind her suddenly crackled to life. 

            "Instructor Noin?"

            Noin cleared her throat and sobered her expression before facing the screen and mildly responding, "Yes cadet?"  
            "You have a call coming through from a transport en route to the base. Should I patch it through?"  
            "Who is it?"

            "Lieutenant Zechs Merquise, ma'am."

            "Patch it through." 

            "Yes ma'am. It will take a few minutes to complete the satellite connection."

            Noin nodded and smoothed her hair back, absently tugging at her tunic. She stood straight, then decided that was foolish and relaxed but decided she might appear too casual and straightened up again. Frowning, she shook her head and rammed her fits to her hips. What the heck was she doing? It was Zechs for pity's sake. Her old friend Zechs…Lieutenant Zechs Merquise…Lightning Count..._The_ Lightning Count. 

            She pulled herself back to attention and waited for the call.

=====================

_~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~_

The boy sat on the steep outcropping of rock on Mount Elgon peering down at the vast Lake Victoria Specials' training complex. The complex was partially camouflaged by the dense growth surrounding it and only his perch atop the mountain afforded him any view at all. He studied what he could see but knew it wasn't necessary. He memorized the map before he even reached the abominably uncultivated planet. His contacts were not due to arrive until just at sunset, however, and there was little else to do, so he sat staring out at the bleak landscape before him. Every moment that passed made him more uncomfortable. It was too wild here. No order or logic to the growth around the mountain, no attempt to create harmony. Rock, sand, brush, trees. No one cared where these things existed nor paid heed to how they fared. It was chaos and Chang Wufei hated chaos.

            As much as he despised chaos, the boy couldn't say that he was any more prone to a strict adherence to order, at least not the brand of order Doctor S attempted to press upon him. Wufei believed in codes. A code of honor, the code of the warrior, his life's destiny. It did not necessarily follow that order would result from a strict adherence to his code, yet neither would chaos reign as long as he followed the laws he laid down for himself. This was his war and he would fight it according to his own sense of right and wrong. 

Wufei had cut himself off from the Doctor and his other self-styled benefactors all most at the moment he arrived on Earth. The Doctor had been necessary at first, a means to an end in acquiring the only weapon he felt worthy of a true duel. They called it Altron. He knew the machine as Nataku, the embodiment of the ancient goddess of war. His goddess, guiding him in his quest for righteousness. Together, he and Nataku would put an end to the chaos and restore order to the stars.

=====================

~personal transport of Zechs Merquise, north of Lake Victoria~

            Zechs Merquise idly thumbed through the thin pages of a small green book. The covers were soft and ornately detailed with gilt lettering and accents. It was written in Chinese, a language he was still learning but could read well enough to comfortably translate most passages.

If words of command are not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly understood, then the general is to blame. But if his orders are clear, and the soldiers nevertheless disobey, then it is the fault of their officers. Translation: crap rolls down hill.

The last remark was an addition to the printed text, written in pencil along the border of the page. It was an unmistakable hand and an even more unmistakable attitude. Noin had made many such notations throughout the book, voicing her own views and interpretations along side those of her much-revered Sun Tzu. He closed the little green volume and shook his head. He had grown to appreciate the teachings of Sun Tzu if not take them to heart as Noin had so long ago. 

He had ignored the book at first. One day, not long after having left Earth and arrived at his new command post, Zechs was unpacking and discovered a small, brightly wrapped package. He knew immediately who was responsible and why it was there, though he was hard pressed to figure out when she managed to sneak it into his luggage without being caught. It was their birthday and Noin, as always, managed to surprise him with a gift. He had hoped to slip away without having to deal with their annual ritual of exchanging presents, believing it would set back his plan to refocus himself on his objective and away from the softer feelings his friend always seemed to bring to the surface, but that was not to be, not if Noin had anything to say about it. As usual, it wasn't an extravagant gift. As a matter of fact it was second hand. She had given him her copy of The Art of War, worn and dog-eared, written in and well-read. No note, no card, but the message was clear. Don't forget. Well, he fully intended to forget completely and so put the book away, ignoring it for quite a while. 

Ironic that she chose that particular book. No, he decided upon further reflection, it wasn't that ironic. After all, they spent hours discussing, debating and down-right arguing over the precepts set down in that ancient treatise. Noin, though not a fanatical proponent of his teachings, did admire Sun Tzu and agreed with much of what he wrote. Zechs admired the work with a critical eye, but had his own ideas about war. Some of their best fights had been about that book. He missed that, the simple pleasure of having a friendly argument with someone who wasn't inclined to wreck his future over a disagreement. No worries about damaged careers, political wrangling or insulting his betters. He missed being able to express himself freely, the luxury of saying precisely what he meant instead of measuring each phrase for suitability and potential for insult. 

            The lieutenant glanced at the little book once more then stowed it in the bag by his feet, dismissing his idle thoughts in the process. It did no good to dwell on what he missed. That wasn't his life anymore and never would be again. He was not yet so cold that he was incapable of appreciating those years of companionship, but it served no purpose to reminisce, so he simply didn't. 

"Lieutenant Merquise, I've set up a connection to Victoria Base. Lieutenant Noin is on the line."

"It's been quite a while, Lieutenant Merquise."

            In spite of the poor connection, Noin's image was clear enough for Zechs to note the hint of a knowing smile on the young woman's face. She bowed formally and waited for acknowledgment. His gaze flicked over her quickly, a sudden sense of deja-vu creeping into his mind. She was dressed in white, just like the day he discovered his adversary for first place in Academy standings was indeed the little girl whose supposed death scarred his heart so deeply. Okay, so maybe this wouldn't be as easy as he first thought.

"You're looking fine as always, Lieutenant Noin."

"I hear you've been pretty busy lately. Rumors of the Lightning Count even made it all the way down here to Lake Victoria."

Zechs grimaced at the name, half expecting her to smile and call him Lightning Boy instead. She was trying to goad him into a friendly game of banter, exchanging mild jabs in the same way they did when they were children, but he would not give into the urge to fall into those old habits. They weren't children anymore.

"I don't appreciate gossip."

Noin's eyebrows furrowed momentarily before she regained her charming expression of reserved amusement. She straightened and turned to observe her students. Zechs peered around her and noted how hard the young men were working. No doubt they were all scrambling to earn praise from their beautiful instructor. 

"I don't know, lieutenant." Noin commented casually, "Gossip has its place and rumors have a way of becoming fact. So…what kind of rumors have you heard about me?"

Noin still faced away from him, her arms held stiffly at her side. Her voice was playful, but her posture was ever so slightly rigid. Noin was worrying over what Zechs might have heard about her abrupt change of careers. Even after all this time, body language continued to give her away. 

"I've heard you are an excellent instructor and a superior all-around soldier."

"Hmm…is that all?" She turned back then, a little more relaxed and smiling modestly despite her smug words. 

Zechs couldn't help but return the smile, however slightly, before commenting, "I should think that was enough. Particularly in light of the fact that you always claimed to hate war."

"I do…" Noin affirmed, suddenly serious.

"But?"

"But it is necessary to fight sometimes. I've always believed that. I love space…I love the serenity and the sense of possibility. Space represents the future and that's something I'm willing to fight to protect." A wistful, almost sad expression passed briefly over her face, a host of memories stepping forward and being pushed back. Forcing a sly smirk on her face, Noin commented,  "I'm flattered you seem to remember so much about me, lieutenant."

Zechs felt the muscles in his jaw twitch at the comment. She was doing it again. He was trying to maintain a level of professional politeness and she was trying to draw him back into the comfortable camaraderie he had thus far managed to push out of his mind. He wished to remain aloof and she was having none of it. It was yet another duel to add to the list of challenges lobbed at one another throughout their lives, Noin herself being the most difficult challenge of all. 

"Yes, well, I make it a point to keep track of officers I may find useful."

Noin chuckled. "Glad to know I made the list.

His first instinct was to come back with some sly, coy remark of his own, but Zechs stubbornly refused to allow himself to be drawn into that old game. Instead he searched in vain for some professional remark, one that would not offend yet could not possibly be misconstrued as flirting. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under Noin's gentle, unrelenting gaze, Zechs finally decided to end the call and give himself the chance to regroup before landing and having to face the young woman in person. He made a few more innocuous remarks, receiving various exasperatingly charming replies, then Zechs made a rather curt farewell and hung up. 

This wasn't going to be easy at all.

======================

            Lieutenant Otto Weir sat in the cockpit of the distinctive blue transport plane and tried not to intentionally eavesdrop on the conversation taking place between his commander, Lieutenant Merquise, and the young flight instructor, Lucretzia Noin. The communication array was at his fingertips and all transmissions passed through the main system, so it was unavoidable that he would hear some of the conversation, but many years of ferrying superior officers from one base to another had taught Otto how to grow deaf at the appropriate time. It wasn't always easy, however, particularly when the two finest pilots in OZ history were speaking. It was one of those moments he wished he could be a fly on the wall. He thought of the insights those two could provide, the views on tactics and command. A wealth of invaluable information, just beyond his reach. 

Any other officer would have been offended by the idea of taking orders from someone so much younger than himself. Otto Weir was about nine or ten years older than both lieutenants, but age was not something that concerned him much. Experience was what mattered. Experience and that indefinable quality that all great leaders seemed to possess. In Otto's experience, leaders truly were born, not made as the Alliance had claimed. In his years among the blighted ranks of the Alliance regulars, Otto had seen many an unworthy man promoted for no better reason that he managed to survive longer than anyone else. As a result, the Alliance command was riddled with vapid, stupid men whose idea of victory was total annihilation of the enemy. To them, anything less was failure. No room for mercy, for compassion.

Otto cringed as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He grit his teeth and breathed deeply, willing away the sickness that so often caught him off guard. It had been thirteen years since he had the unfortunate luck of being assigned to the invasion force sent to capture the kingdom of Cinq. Thirteen years since he participated in the massacre of so many hundreds of civilians. Old, young, male, female. It didn't matter. Only victory mattered, even at the expense of innocents. 

It was the children that got to him most. The memory of seeing that little boy and the baby girl, both terrified and bloody…

No.

Otto let out a harsh breath and wrenched himself back into reality. That was the past. The future was with OZ. He was in a position to make up for all the horror. He could make it right and was perfectly willing to die to see that happen. Otto was determined that such tragedies would not go unpunished, that the terrors of the past could never be repeated. People such as His Excellency and Lieutenant Merquise—true leaders, born to guide the world into a new era of peace—would ensure that such atrocities never occurred again. And it was Otto's great honor to be allowed to serve them.

            An alarm sounded on the sensor panel and Otto quickly checked the ship's radar, then alerted Lieutenant Merquise. 

"Lieutenant Zechs, we're receiving a warning that an unidentified transport was picked up on radar near here. The observation post is recommending we land until the ship can be identified."

Zechs entered the cabin and glanced at the GPS readout. 

"Very well, change course. There is a secluded airstrip five miles east of here. Reset the coordinates and watch for it carefully, Otto. It's on the edge of bush country and mostly hidden by the dense growth surrounding it."

Otto nodded. "That should be a perfect place to hide Tallgeese until the danger has passed."

            They arrived at the secluded airstrip and landed within minutes. Otto taxied the massive plane close to the tree line, giving the transport the benefit of some limited camouflage.  Lieutenant Zechs disembarked to stretch his legs, taking his satchel with him, Otto noted. He was briefly offended that the lieutenant seemed to feel the need to take his possessions with him, but the affront passed quickly. He understood the younger man's reserve, admired it actually. Otto had yet to prove himself to the other officer but was determined to do so. It was his greatest wish to earn the respect and trust of Zechs Merquise. Neither emotion came easily to the young count, Otto could tell, which made it all the more worth while to prove himself worthy. 

            He stood in the cockpit, stretching a bit but not willing to stray too far from his post. They were not safe there by any means and he preferred to be ready to take off the moment the all clear was given. He performed a few minor diagnostics then turned his attention to the landscape outside. Most of his duty posts had been in space over the past decade. Prior to that, he had been assigned primarily to the European theatre. This was only his second trip to the African continent and he was struck by the uniqueness of the place. 

Unlike most Specials officers, Otto had not attended the Lake Victoria Academy. He had been recruited directly from the Alliance regulars and received most of his training at Officer's Candidate School in Brussels. Many of the nuances of etiquette and protocol that came so easy to Academy graduates were lost on him, but he strove to hold himself to the high standards set by His Excellency. For the first time in his life Otto took pride in himself and his work. War was war, messy and tragic not matter one's cause, but he took comfort in the knowledge that he fought along side men and women who did not commit senseless acts of brutality simply because they could. There was honor in what he did and the life he led. 

            It was precisely this sense of honor that Otto so admired in Lieutenant Zechs. Young though he was, Count Merquise was one of the most honorable men Otto had ever met. He followed that example to the best of his ability. Yet, despite the respect and admiration he had for the lieutenant, there was something about Zechs that troubled Otto deeply. It was a vague feeling, some sense of familiarity, but he could never quite put his finger on it. 

            Otto shook his head, scattering the troublesome uneasiness and turned his attention back to the radar display. It didn't matter at the moment. Whatever disturbed him about his commanding officer, Otto was sure to figure it out eventually. In the meantime, he had a job to do. 

======================

_~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~_

            The frightful image of Doctor J peered back at the commander from the safety of the commlink screen. He was fidgeting again, a sure sign that there were problems. There seemed to by a good many problems lately. Wing had been captured, Deathscythe was sent to retrieve his unknown comrade but had not checked in on time, Heavyarms and Sandrock had managed to damage each other's suits and were currently making repairs. And now, Doctor J was avoiding the subject of Altron.

            "It was a simple question, Doctor. What is the status of the Altron?"

            "I don't know."

            "Has the suit been damaged?" 

            "I don't know."

            "Has the pilot been captured? What?"

            "We haven't spoken to the Altron pilot in two weeks. We were tracking him via the internal GPS systems on board the Altron, but…we lost contact forty-eight hours ago."

            The Commander scowled unpleasantly, grinding his teeth and narrowing his eyes in frustrated suspicion. "What are you trying to tell me Doctor?"

======================

_~uncharted airstrip, north of Lake Victoria~_

He was an admirer of weeds. Particularly those weeds that had the audacity to challenge the accepted ideas of beauty by producing oddly-colored blooms. Weeds were Nature's way of reminding humanity that we aren't quite as brilliant as we thought, that despite all of our fine achievements, our buildings, our cities, one lowly weed could still break through, cracking the impenetrable. A single crack can grow and multiply until the whole wall falters. Nature asserting herself quietly through our lofty, smug layers of smooth concrete. No matter how thick the pavement, always, always a wildflower weed will find its way out, reaching for the light, straining to grow strong and straight despite the overwhelming odds.  Roses weren't capable of that; at least not the hothouse variety so many seemed to prize, nor the temperamental orchid, the simple lily, the delicate camellia. Ornamental flowers required care and admiration to survive. Blooming wild plants required only purchase in the soil of Earth and the light of the sun, expecting no admiration, asking no more than to exist. There was a prettiness to weeds, despite the spiked leaves and peculiarly shaped blooms, a prettiness not readily seen by the casual observer. It took serious study to learn to see the wild growth as something beautiful. He was an admirer of the willful yet humble weed

There were no weeds in the colonies. Oh there were flowers enough as well as grass, trees, greenery of every other kind, but they were carefully cultivated by legions of Colony landscapers hired for that sole purpose. There were no spontaneous shoots springing through errant spaces between the better, prettier plants.  Things grew in the colonies because men willed it so.

            Rummaging through the satchel, Zechs eventually retrieved a small sketch pad with a well-used pencil buried between the pages. He did not indulge his passion for art so much as he would like. Indeed, he indulged very few of his passions at all, but he had kept the habit he developed in his Academy days of always carrying a small book with blank pages and a pencil. The pencil was generally much-abused, having been pared down with knives, or even teeth if necessary, and worn down to a pathetic nub of wood with only a fraction of a lead left with which to draw. 

            With relatively few expert strokes, Zechs easily rendered the vague outline of the blooming plant, from the delicate petals of the oddly shaped blossoms to the thick, prickly stalk and its feathery leaves. Adding a detail or two, he then held the small page away from himself and compared the likeness with the original. Deciding it would look better with color, he once again ransacked his satchel, hoping he had thought to toss in the travel-size watercolor set he picked up on L2. Seeing that he had, the lieutenant gladly pulled it from its resting place and quickly set about coloring in the picture. 

The color was not strictly correct, nor had he endeavored in earnest to make it so. Art was fluid and moving, images changing with the light as well as the whim of the artist. He stroked one color onto the petals then dabbed a drop of a different hue, watching as the wet paint bled along the page, dramatically creating an effect he could not and would not control. Light colors blending into dark to create shade effects he would not have imagined himself, but now could build upon to create a vision of what the plant _meant_ to him rather than its actual appearance. There was a impulsiveness to painting that mimicked the plant's own unpredictability. His entire life was regulated and fixed to a principle of conduct from which he never wavered, but in this one thing, Zechs placed no restrictions on himself, allowing instead the inspiration he so often locked away to take charge, if only for a few moments. 

The small work finished, Zechs laid it aside to dry in the hot African sun. The heavy wool jacket so indicative of his rank had long since been discarded and the young man sat slightly sprawled on a smooth outcropping of rock at the edge of the airstrip. He picked up his pad and pencil once again and made more sketches, nothing interesting, just a few practice drawings to keep his skills honed. 

After the mini-masterpiece dried, Zechs sat staring at it, a sudden thought causing his brow to crease beneath the obscurity of his mask. It was a stupid idea, he knew, but he couldn't seem to shake off the thought. He carefully folded the picture perfectly in half, pulling out an expensive ink pen His Excellency given him and writing a short phrase on the blank portion of the paper. He added a subtle flourish at the end then initialed and dated the watercolor itself. It was stupid, silly, definitely unnecessary after a year, but he carefully tucked the image inside the breast pocket of his uniform coat, then shook his head, convinced he couldn't possibly be so weak as to go through with such a childish plan.

            Another thirty minutes passed before Otto called to say that the danger seemed to have passed and the transport took off, once more headed for Lake Victoria.

======================

_~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~_

            _"Finally,"_  thought Chang Wufei as he walked towards an older man dressed in the distinctive green uniform of the Alliance. The older man was one of about one hundred moles carefully planted throughout the Alliance and OZ over the past decade. Rebel groups from the Colonies, including the resistance cell on his own home colony, had been preparing for this massive assault for twenty years. He had been trained to be part of that effort, but now that he was on Earth, Wufei felt the overwhelming pull of his own conscious. He would no longer follow the orders of those who claimed to fight for peace. Perhaps their motives were as noble as they claimed, Wufei did not honestly care. All that mattered was following his own path. 

            He spoke briefly with the smuggler, who was ignorant of Wufei's break with the main group, and paid in full for the massive quantity of explosives contained in the truck. "This should take care of it," he remarked casually, handing over a valise full of cash. 

The other man subtly counted the pay off and as his partner drove up and asked, "So, where do you want the cargo delivered?"

"Leave it here along with the truck. He's paid enough for both."

"Wait…you wanna leave this amount of explosives with a kid?"

"Mind your business," the man barked,  "Just get out and give him the keys so we can get out of here." Handing the keys over to Wufei he added a parting, "Take care kid."

Wufei smirked as he climbed into the truck and drove off. "Thanks for your help."

======================

_~Lake Victoria Military Base~_

When the transport landed and the Lightning Count disembarked, he was secretly pleased to see a small reception had been organized for his benefit. Since returning to Earth almost a month previous, he had received little welcome. Most of the bases he had visited were Alliance installations, most of the officers resentful and jealous of his fame, but here it was different. He was Lake Victoria's most decorated graduate and it felt good to be appreciated after so many weeks of hostility. 

He started down the steps to greet the Academy's commandant and some of his former instructors. The greetings were formal, but also congenial. There were salutes and handshakes all around as he stopped to talk amiably with everyone, accepting congratulations humbly and expressing his genuine pleasure at being able to return to his alma mater, all the while searching for a dark head out of the corner of his eye. A very slight knot of disappointment forming in the pit of his stomach as it occurred to him that she might not have come to greet him.

            Zechs had spent the past few hours—and the past year, for that matter--convincing himself that he didn't need her and he had proven that well enough, but took a step further and convinced himself that his affection for Noin had colored his perceptions in the past. He allowed a foolish and childish admiration for her beauty to distract him from his true purpose. A year apart had taught him that she was not quite the beauty he had believed in his boy hood, that her complexion wasn't quite as porcelain as he always told himself, that her eyes did not mirror the night sky. He read far too much poetry back then and it showed. Noin was certainly attractive, he knew, but no more so, he was sure, than any other young woman he had met. Of course he believed all of this right up to the moment he caught sight of Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin waiting at the end of the reception line.

He wasn't prepared for the jolt of seeing her standing there, at attention but with such a gentle expression. As he approached, Zechs took note of the subtle differences in Noin's appearance. She had grown a little more, standing perhaps another two inches taller, but then so had he so their height difference remained consistent. A quick glance over her figure indicated she had filled out quite nicely as well, a fact that was obvious even through the mannish constraints of her uniform. Her delicate features, frustratingly hidden by a sweep of ebony hair, were still imbued with the light of an inner innocence that she somehow managed to nurture despite her life of military discipline and the harsh realities of war. And her eyes. Still the most impossible shade of violet, a color he could never quite capture with brush and paint. 

A salute, one he returned a bit stiffly, a handshake and a few noncommittal remarks from them both then Zechs was swept away by the Colonel Petrovsky for a tour of the base. The colonel ordered Lieutenant Noin to oversee the transfer of the large mobile suit to the repair facility for evaluation, then she was gone. The next hour passed slowly as Zechs was led around the base by an over eager Petrovsky. No mention was made of an impending attack, but Zechs could see a few subtle security measures as they walked about. More soldiers stationed at certain strategic points, fewer mobile suits left idle on the proving grounds. Not the base wide alert he was hoping for, but as he spoke to the colonel, Zechs began to understand that the man had no intention of taking any precautions. The somewhat secretive measures he had noticed were most likely implemented surreptitiously by another officer. 

The tour finally ended due to a call for the base commander and Zechs took the opportunity to see how Tallgeese was being handled by the engineering department. He entered the hanger unnoticed by the excited young technicians buzzing about the most impressive and unique machine any of them had ever seen. Zechs spied Otto on the opposite end of the hanger and made his way through the throng of eager scientists. As he approached, Zechs also caught sight of Noin hunched over the datapad with the statistical analysis of the mobile suit. Zechs stood at a distance, watching.

Otto eventually excused himself to check up on the young engineers literally crawling all over Tallgeese. Zechs approached as the older man walk away, frowning to himself, then turned back to find Noin peering at him suspiciously. Her eyes traveled from Zechs to Otto and back again. They stared for one long uncomfortable moment; Noin trying to peer beyond the glass of his visor while Zechs simply took in the lovely view. Noin seemed on the verge of asking something, but then appeared to think better of it and instead inclined her head towards the exit, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. Zechs nodded and followed his colleague out into the warm evening air.

======================

_~Lake Victoria Academy, student dormitories~_

Wufei stalked along the corridors of Lake Victoria Academy, smugly enjoying his private joke. With the help of expertly forged documents and a cadet's uniform, he had driven his truckload of explosives right through the gates. The adjoining military base, as expected, was on alert, though it did not seem to be sufficient given the circumstances. He shrugged it off. The base was none of his concern at the moment. That wasn't the target. Now, he walked the halls, blending in to a sea of green uniform. He had a gym bag casually slung over his shoulder, filled to the brim with small bundles of explosives. He had already planted his little surprises in the cafeteria and the three lounges near the dormitory. At that moment he was making his way along all of the corridors and from floor to floor of the two primary cadet housing units.

He ducked inside the laundry room on the third floor and placed another charge, completely unnoticed. His task complete, Wufei moved on, shaking his head as he passed dozens of cadets of various ages passing to and fro. He almost felt sorry for the pathetic fools. Almost. If they were not so very stupid, he might have spared a moment of regret, but he felt nothing. Fools deserved to die. Stupidity should not be rewarded with life. They were weak little fools, playing at war while he fulfilled his destiny.

Wufei finished laying the last of the charges and strolled back outside. The truck he used to enter the base was parked near the back entrance of the larger dormitory, still half-filled with various forms of explosives. He climbed into the back, being careful to check to see if he could be observed, then activated the remote receiver. Satisfied that it would work, he left the base, shedding the offensive uniform as he returned to his temporary shelter. All that was left was to wait for nightfall. 

======================

_~Lake Victoria Academy, south quad~_

            "…and this is the new student union." 

Noin gestured broadly as she led Zechs through the double doors into a brightly decorated lounge, full of comfortable sofas, small tables and a rather large bar at one end. It certainly didn't look anything like the student union he and Noin frequented during their academy days. It looked more like an old-style coffee house, just retro enough to be fun without falling into the tragically hip. 

            Noin walked over to the jukebox in the corner, again in the style of the previous century, and punched a few buttons. A few seconds later the air was filled with an unobtrusive jazz melody. Zechs strolled among the various chairs and around the low tables before taking a seat on a particularly comfy looking couch across from the bar. He watched silently as Noin moved behind the counter, disappearing behind it briefly then standing upright with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Zechs rose to accept his goblet and returned to his seat, expecting Noin to follow. Instead she settled herself on one of the bar stools and leaning on the counter with her back to him. 

            The conversation lulled, replaced by the ambient music. Zechs felt himself growing a bit uncomfortable. He had been worried that Noin would be too friendly, that his standoffish behavior would surprise and offend her, but to his relief—or consternation, he couldn't tell which at that point—she seemed perfectly willing to let his behavior go on unchallenged. He crossed his legs, staring down at the rich, red liquid in his glass and struggled for some intelligent, yet neutral, remark to break the silence.

"When can you move the Tauruses?"

"By tomorrow morning, 0700 hours."

"That will be close."

"Yes, but it was all I could do to convince the colonel to allow that. I had to tell him is was a practice maneuver."

"Yes. I noticed Colonel Petrovsky seemed uncommonly at ease."

"He has faith in his orders." Her tone of voice was just short of sarcastic and they both nodded sardonically at the foolishness of their superior. Taking a sip of her own wine, Noin finally turned to halfway face Zechs. "I've heard the Gundams do not show up on radar, so I've increased the number of personnel on watch."

"I noticed your security precautions on our tour of the base. Good work particularly considering you were forced to go against orders. Wise decision." 

"Thank you for the compliment, sir."

Zechs felt the muscles in his jaw twitch at the word 'sir.' She had called him 'sir' eight times since they left the hanger and 'Lieutenant Merquise' four times. Keeping their distance was one thing, but now she was just trying to annoy him. 

"So…what do you think, Lieutenant Merquise?"

            It took Zechs a moment to understand what she was speaking of, caught up as he was in the fact that she kept calling him 'sir' and 'Lieutenant Merquise.' He hoped his cool demeanor would set the tone for this visit, but he found his success to be surprisingly annoying at that moment.

"Please, Noin, just call me Zechs." He tried valiantly not to sound put out, but failed, so returned to her original question. "This is nice, but not what I would expect for an OZ installation. I would have expected more…" he paused, gesturing vaguely, groping for the proper word.

"More Louis XIV and family crests?" Noin supplied.

"Yes."

Noin shrugged, glancing around. "My cadets are all very young and restless. I thought they needed a place to just be kids."

They were hardly kids, Zechs thought. They were the same age as he and Noin when they attended. But of course that was probably her point. She knew what it was like to have childhood forcibly ripped away and replaced with the poor substitute of duty. There was also her obvious fondness for the students there. There was always that part of Noin's personality that needed to reach out and protect. Call it maternal instinct or just plain compassion, but he could see that the stern, upright soldier he knew had been replaced by something closer to a camp counselor. A kinder, gentler Noin. 

"Don't go getting too attached or parting will hurt."

"Thank you for your concern. But my students are not trained to die. I believe the value of human life. They've been taught to be cautious."

Cautious? Zechs took a sip of his wine to prevent a huff of contempt. War meant death. Death meant war. Being cautious only denied the soldier his true strength. 

"I've sent many men to their deaths, Noin. I have to disagree with your philosophy."

Noin set her glass down roughly and turned sharply, facing him fully. "Any kind of operation that _intentionally_ risks lives should be considered flawed in the first place. I pity the soldiers who die needlessly."

What followed next was a glaring match, on in which Noin was winning but could not tell due to her opponent's mask. Just as the tension hanging in the air seemed too thick to cut, the phone rang. Noin swiveled around on her stool to answer. 

 "This is Lieutenant Noin…yes. Hold on." She held the phone out, her expression losing the angry scowl. "Zechs, it's Otto."

Otto? When did she start calling him Otto? She spent half the evening calling him 'Lieutenant Merquise' and she's already calling him by his first name? He set his goblet down on the bar and took the receiver, turning to face the wall as he listened to Otto's report. The repairs were progressing nicely. Some structural details had been discovered suggesting the suit was far more superior than originally thought…

Clink.

Zechs glanced down, grabbing the hilt of his ceremonial saber to see what he had bumped into. 

Clink.

He saw the tip of Noin's saber steadily striking his. Shooting a glance over his shoulder at the back of Noin's head, Zechs turned back to the phone.

"Lieutenant Zechs? Did you hear me sir?"

"Uh…yes, Otto. The suit's construction is more advanced than we thought. Continue."

"Sir, it looks like we can complete this sooner than expected. It'll still take about three weeks, though."

"I see. That's good news. Thank you for all your efforts, Otto."

            "Thank you, sir."

Even after Otto hung up, Zechs remained as he was, phone to ear, back to Noin while she, still keeping a steady beat with their ceremonial sabers, simply sat on the stool and gazed silently into the wine glass held delicately between slender fingers. 

Tap, tap. 

It was her way of reminding him of the last time he tried to distance himself from her, the day they tied in a fencing match and rediscovered one another. 

Tap, tap. 

Zechs had failed miserably in his half-hearted quest to turn Noin away, but he was thirteen and only a boy, still needy and capable of warm feelings. 

Tap, tap. 

He wasn't that boy anymore. 

Tap, tap. 

Then again…

Tap, tap

…maybe it wasn't necessary to push her away _completely_. After all, they had been comrades once. What harm could really be done by a few days of nostalgia? 

Tap, tap. 

Of course, he wouldn't allow himself to slip into the old habits, the old, long-dismissed craving for her company. They would talk, work together to repair Tallgeese and he would leave. As simple as that. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Right.

At some point—Zechs was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice right away—Noin began humming softly. He recognized the tune immediately. Her favorite melody, her lullaby. He fought off the urge to sigh heavily at her persistence and instead hung up the phone, easing himself onto the opposite edge of the stool upon which Noin had perched herself. There they sat sharing the stool for quite a long time, back to back. One humming, one silent and brooding, both remembering. Uncharacteristically, it was Zechs who broke the silence first.

"Too bad I don't have a harmonica," he remarked offhandedly. 

His answer was a light chuckle and a quiet, "Check your coat pocket." 

Zechs frowned, glancing over his shoulder quickly before patting at his chest and sides. His hands stopped at a small bulge at his right side breast pocket. Reaching in, he retrieved a small harmonica. He stared at the small metal instrument in wonder, trying to figure out exactly when and how she had managed to slip the harmonica into his pocket. Shaking his head, he recalled just how skilled a pickpocket she had become when they were living on the streets of Rome. In theory, if her nimble little fingers could liberate valuables from an interior pocket without detection, she could certainly do the reverse. 

"Happy Birthday, Zechs."

Her voice was quiet and warm. Undemanding, humble even. Nineteen years old that day. Almost every year since they met, Zechs and Noin managed to come up with some sort of trinket or homemade gift for one another. A light smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he reached inside another jacket pocket and retrieved a very neatly folded paper. On the front, written in an elegant, even script with just a hint of flourish, were the words, _Happy Birthday, Noin. _Inside, a delicately rendered watercolor sketch of a wildflower. 

            Zechs casually passed it over his shoulder with two fingers, not bothering to turn as he said, "Happy Birthday, yourself."

            The paper slipped from his fingers, followed by a quiet voice of appreciation. "It's lovely, Zechs. Thank you."

            "You're welcome and thanks for the harmonica."

            "You're welcome," her voice still quiet, now hinting at something deeper, "I'm so glad you haven't given up everything…your art I mean. It's good to know you still paint."

            Zechs shifted uncomfortably at that, knowing exactly what she meant, "Everyone has to have a hobby."

            "Even the Lightning Count?"

            "Especially the Lightning Count."

Noin's humming commenced again, subtly prodding the young man to try out his gift. He hesitantly obliged, concerned that he was too rusty and equally concerned that one of the young cadets would wander in and find the Lightning Count sharing a seat with Instructor Noin and playing the harmonica to boot. A few test notes to get his key and he launched into a haunting accompaniment to Noin's lovely voice. His playing and her singing, intended as a warm remembrance, ended up sounding particularly melancholy, morose even with only a hint of subtle pleasure ringing through. Music, his mother was fond of saying, drew out the strongest emotions from the soul. Whatever you felt flowed through you into the music, whether you wanted it to or not. If his Mama was right, then all he and Noin had to offer that particular night was a sort of sad nostalgia wrapped up in the memory of happier times.

=====================

_~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~_

"What are you telling me Doctor J?" The commander's voice was calm and cold. He had suspicions as to the news of Altron's wayward pilot, but he needed to hear it out loud, it was that unbelievable.

"He seems to be heading for the base."

"Victoria Base."

"Yes."  
            "The one target I specifically forbade."

"Yes."

            The Commander stared incredulously at the screen, seemingly too stunned to respond. Quietly rising from his seat the man reached to the shelf above his communications link and retrieved a small remote key pad. Calmly he sat and began punching in a sequence of numbers, diligently ignoring the alarmed prattle of the old man on the other end of the call. 

            "You can't simply destroy the suit, Commander!"

            "Yes, doctor," the commander responded coolly, "actually I can. I did warn you."

            "Yes," the doctor agreed, struggling to sound reasonable, "but you must consider the situation. This base may not have been part of our original plan, but it is a military target nonetheless." 

            The Commander finished the first sequence of codes, activating the long distance connection to the Altron's self-destruct program. He then began to enter the next sequence to set the count down.

            "Commander, I beg you to reconsider. Our mission is in jeopardy all ready. One suit is assumed lost, two more are temporarily out of commission. Altron and Deathscythe are the only Gundams we have left! If you destroy Altron—if we fail in this mission—then the Bartons will take over and proceed with their original plan to drop colony x-18999 on Earth!"

             The Commander paused, fingers poised to enter the last sequence in the code and blow the fifth Gundam to oblivion. He had every right. It was his plan, his mission, his rebellion. To have this brat so openly defy the most basic order threatened the entire operation…and it threatened a young girl he very much wanted to protect. But the doctor was correct. They could not afford to lose one of the Gundams. It had taken all of their resources to build those five. Once they were gone, there would be no others. 

            And once the attack began, there was no protecting Lucretzia Noin.

            What now? 

Save the mission or save the girl?

=====================

_~Lake Victoria Academy~_

            Noin had just stripped down to her tank top and pants, discarding her shoes and jacket, when all hell broke loose. The force of two explosions in rapid succession jarred her quarters enough to throw her off her feet. She scrambled up and out the door, following the crowd of other officers heading for…

            "Oh God…" Noin breathed in shock as she skidded to a stop. She had expected to see the mobile suit factory in shambles, perhaps the base complex. The last thing she expected was to see the Academy grounds engulfed in smoke, debris raining down upon the remains of what was once the cadet's dormitories. She darted off again, racing towards the devastation with more haste now that she knew her students were in trouble. In spite of the confusion, a rescue team was on the scene immediately. Noin rushed into what was left of the west dorm, pointing the few shocked students capable of walking on their own towards the exit as she continued further in to look for survivors. Coughing through the haze, she stumbled upon the prone form of a second-year. She rushed to his side, gently turning him over and gasping.

            "Wylocek!" She put her fingers to the boy's neck. He opened his eyes, staring up at her with a forlorn expression. 

"I…I wanted…to see space, instructor," Wylocek gasped, "…I just wanted to…"

Wylocek's voice faded with the last rush of air from his lungs. It was a completely unique sound, a man's last breath, a sound Noin was all too familiar with. She shuddered involuntarily, then squeezed her eyes shut to the pale, angelic face staring up at her. Cradling the boy's head against her chest, she ground her teeth, a sob escaping in spite of her desperate efforts to remain calm. He was just a boy…just a little boy...

            The voices of others calling out for help shook Noin, breaking her moment of grief. She gently laid Christopher Wylocek's body down and continued down the hall, calling for the rescue team to follow her. She aided the rescue team in unblocking a staircase and half-carried a young cadet back outside. Seeing the medical staff already at work, Noin sprinted back towards the base and the mobile suit hanger. Calling all of her able-bodied pilots along after her. 

            An attack on the base, she was expecting. Bombing the mobile suit factory, logical. But why target the students? Mistake in targets? Not possible. There was no mistaking, even by an amateur, what those building were. Whoever was responsible for this attack was after the pilots. The _pilots_. Noin ground her teeth against the fury rising inside, saving it for the battle to come. She would need that anger to fuel her attack, to push her to her limit and beyond. She was the first into the Aries and the first to take off after firing off a round of orders to the rest of the pilots as well as the ground crew. Gunning the Aries to maximum speed, Noin set out like an avenging angel, determined to capture the cowards and bring them to justice. 

=====================

_~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~_

"You made the correct choice, Commander, you'll see. The boy is not so far beyond our influence just yet."

Ignoring the Doctor's croaking voice and obvious relief, the Commander angrily slapped at the disconnect button and the screen was suddenly blank. Yes, he made the correct choice. In spite of the boy's disobedience, he was still confining his reign of terror to logical military targets. He was still of use. With the fate of Wing unknown, the organization could not risk the loss of a mobile suit of Altron's power. Sacrificing Victoria Base was the prudent choice. He could not, however, dispel the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of young Noin. 

She was a well-trained soldier, more than capable of taking care of herself, but faced with the awesome destructive power of Altron, even she would find it difficult to survive. The rogue pilot was very thorough and took great pride in his ability to wreak havoc on those he considered his enemy. The base was most likely in ruins by now, casualties numbering in the thousands. If he was still capable of prayer, the Commander might have sent a silent plea to protect the girl, but he no longer believed in such things as God and mercy. He believed in very little, in fact, other than the idea that those who took his life twenty years prior deserved whatever hellish fate he could visit upon them. 

            But the girl…she didn't deserve any of this. The Commander slammed his fist down hard upon the small table, cracking it. He should have known better than to think he could offer her any protection. It was too late for her. It had been too late for her fourteen years ago when she was lost. She never had a chance. Even if she had not been taken from them, her life would have been the very same empty existence suffered by the others in the program. Her fate was set from the moment of her creation. At least, he told himself, at the _very_ least, young Noin had been granted a few years to grow on her own and to become her own person. She had a few years of freedom and, the Commander hoped with all his heart, she had known love. 

"Forgive me," he whispered to the still air, "forgive me Lucretzia." 

====================== 

_~Lake Victoria Academy~_

It was over in eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes encompassing two catastrophic explosions, a chase, a decidedly mismatched battle and utter defeat. 

Lucretzia Noin sat in her ruined Aries, completely defeated. Physically, morally, mentally beaten. By a child no less. What kind of monsters send a child to orchestrate a massacre? A massacre of other children?  The same kind of monsters who took her from Marguerite and made her a soldier She made fists, wanting nothing more than to rip that damned useless mobile suit to pieces.  The pent up fury she refused to let loose on that boy earlier suddenly came spilling out in a tirade of kicks, punches, and screams directed at the antiquated machinery. Stupid, worthless Aries. Stupid, worthless pilot. Her rage spent, Noin slumped forward, sprawled across the destroyed communications panel and impotent navigational equipment. As much as she would like to blame her failure to stop the Gundam from destroying that transport, Noin knew she could not. The Aries was only as good as its pilot. She had the vague nagging notion that she should get out and hurry back to base, but felt too cowardly at that moment. She wasn't up to facing the devastation she failed to prevent, couldn't bear the idea of seeing all of those poor dead kids being pulled from the rubble. 

Instead, she sat limply in her ruined mobile suit and replayed every mistake she made in the past  week. In spite of the base commander's insistence that their security was sufficient, Noin had surreptitiously ordered extra patrols, assigned additional guards and increased the number of lookouts at the various watch towers around the base. It made sense. It was a good plan, even Zechs said so. The problem was, the base was not the objective. The rebels targeted instead the adjoining training facility, the school. More specifically, the young pilots in training. Her students, her charges, her boys. God, she couldn't even bring herself to speculate on how many lay dead beneath their crumbled dormitory, their deaths all the more tragic because they were caught in their sleep and were not even afforded the opportunity to defend themselves. She had witnessed death countless times, had lost soldiers under her command, but this was somehow worse than any bloody campaign she ever fought. 

_Don't go getting too attached or parting will hurt._

Those words rang through her ears now mocking her. If her students had been killed in fair battle, perhaps it would not be so heart wrenching now. But they never had a chance. The image of two hundred sleeping faces suddenly engulfed in flame and pain seared itself into her brain. So tortured by guilt, Noin did not immediately realize that her suit was being towed back to base. Her communications link was still out, saving her the trouble of having to speak to anyone until the suit was set down. 

"Noin?" She recognized the voice immediately and swallowed a lump in her throat. She sat mute, too ashamed to respond at first. The voice spoke again, the urgency betraying deep concern.  "Noin! Are you all right in there?"

"Yeah," she finally responded, her voice quivering slightly, "Just a little bruised."

Zechs, still holding onto the cable that hauled him up to the cockpit entrance, braced himself against the Aries' right arm and used his foot to force the damaged door fully open. Kneeling at the entrance, he peered inside. Holding his hand out to Noin, he spoke in a calmer tone.

"I'm just so glad you're alive."

"Why?" Noin said as she sniffed the last of what must have been a torrent of tears. "Because if I died I receive an honorary promotion to colonel for my brave sacrifice and I'd outrank you?" She took his proffered hand as she eased out of the wrecked suit and even tried a smirk.  

Zechs let out a relieved breath, shaking his head. "I should have known not to worry, not with that sense of humor."

Zechs guided her out onto the cockpit hatch and glanced down at the young woman's hands, noting several discolorations beginning to form there. Those weren't crash injuries, they were self-inflicted. Wounds of anger. He recognized such wounds, he had enough of those in his youth. Noin's temper had gotten the better of her long enough for an outburst of supreme pain and fury. He resisted the urge to glance inside the cockpit to see how much damage she had rendered to the abused machine       

"You've got to let me fight with you, Zechs." Zechs turned to face her silently, not knowing how to respond to her plea. "I know I'm not up to par for battle, but I can retrain and get stronger. I'm cleared on all the new mobile suit variations…hell, I helped design the space Taurus systems…Zechs…I have to _do_ something. I can't just sit on the sidelines anymore."

Zechs nodded. That was something he could understand completely. In fact, he was surprised she had stayed quietly out of the fight this long.

            "I understand. After Corsica, I swore to get back at those Gundams, too. They've gotten away with too much. It's time to go on the offensive and I would feel more secure with you backing me up, Noin."

Noin smiled, squeezing the hand that still held hers. "Thank you, Zechs."

Zechs nodded and helped Noin to her feet, gently slipping an arm around her waist long enough to steady the lieutenant as she descended the steps one of the cadets had wheeled to the edge of the mobile suit. They spoke little after that, both busying themselves with directing the salvage and rescue operations. Zechs casually insinuated himself into the lead for the mobile suit salvage, allowing Noin to concentrate on the part of the operation that concerned her most: tending to her wounded students. 

            At some point, Noin managed to commandeer a uniform coat from a slightly built young man assigned to drive the ambulances. Noin was still barefoot, however, but if anyone noticed this fact, they very kindly ignored it and went about the business of cleaning up the rubble. They worked for hours, pulling bodies from mess, few having survived the destruction. The bodies were laid out in long rows, reverently covered with sheets, tarps, whatever could be found. They ran out of body bags within an hour, the base's morgue and medical facility full. As the furor died down and dawn approached, Noin found herself wandering the halls of the medical unit, counting the dead, looking for one particular cadet.

            Eventually she ended up in the morgue and found who she was searching for. Christopher Wylocek. The first student she met upon arrival at LVA as an instructor, the boy who loved space as much as she. She gently pulled back the pristine white sheet covering his surprisingly undamaged face. All pain and fear gone now, he looked as though he were simply sleeping. Just sleeping.

Noin, took up the Wylocek's pale hand, which was still soft and flexible. Clasping the boy's hand between her own, she unconsciously began rubbing the chilled skin as though to warm it. She even went so far as to pull the sheet closer around the boy's body. She could never stand the idea of a child being cold. She remembered what it felt like all too well, the cold, the loneliness. It tore at her heart to think of one of her boys being cold and frightened. She became vaguely aware of a stream of tears meandering down her cheeks, but ignored it believing that she was beyond unwelcome notice and it was safe to cry.

"I'm sorry, Christopher," she whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry…"

            Even if Noin's senses had not been momentarily dulled by grief, it is unlikely she would have heard the door open or have seen the tall figure slip into the room, for Zechs had not desire to be noticed. His movements were silent and smooth as he settled himself into the shadows across the room. The last thing he wanted to do just then was disturb Noin. He knew if he spoke, he could not limit himself to a few words of comfort. Standing there, watching her weep over one of her students, Zechs was overwhelmed with the need to go to her, to hold her and make things right, but forced himself to remain still.  He knew, too, that Noin would be embarrassed to be caught in such a state, even by her old childhood confidante. He kept his distance, but stayed to watch over her, determined not to allow her to suffer alone even if he could not reveal his presence.

            There they stood, both keeping silent vigil for hours. Noin calmed eventually, covering the boy's face again before proceeding to walk around the room, body to body, saying goodbye. Near dawn, she wiped away the last of her tears, straightened her uniform and turned to leave. Zechs remained still, waiting for her to exit before he slipped away himself, but Noin didn't go out. Instead she walked right up to the shadow hovering in the corner. 

            Strangely, Zechs wasn't surprised that Noin had somehow become aware of his presence. He looked down at her tired face, more fragile looking now that the delicate skin was marred by tears. His hand twitched with the effort to remain by his side rather than wipe away those tears. Noin cocked her head slightly, peering around her hair and attempted a weak smile. It wasn't a coaxing smile, not a playful or mocking expression designed to draw him into a flirtatious duel of words. It was a silent thanks. Thanks for being there.

            "I could use some coffee."

            "Me too," Zechs replied quietly, "I think the lounges on the base are undamaged. Do you want to see if they have anything?"

            "Sure."

            With that, the pair walked out of the morgue, side by side, and started towards the eastern portion of the compound, beyond the mobile suit hangers. They took their time, neither paying much attention to the continuing efforts to clean up the ruble. Neither spoke, because there was nothing to say. Words seemed pitifully insufficient at that moment. Nothing said could lessen the hurt or change the outcome, so they walked on in silence, simply grateful to be alive and in each other's company. 

=====================

_~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~_

Wufei secured the last of Nataku's camouflage and stalked away from the massive machine. He was restless or angry, he couldn't tell which. He was having difficulty understanding just what it was he was feeling. The self-imposed mission was successful and he escaped. He could move on to the next target, but for some reason, he felt so….he felt…

"_Get away from me you weaklings_!"

…he felt like shrieking at the top of his lungs. He felt like tearing something to pieces, shooting down the moon, killing the stars that bore him. His shout echoed briefly, sending the pack of hyenas scurrying away to find some less menacing meal and Chang Wufei sank to his knees. For all of his talk of justice and honor, he knew deep down that he fought out of anger. The pain in his heart drove him mad with fury and he used Nataku, his eternal companion in war and destruction, to lash out at those responsible for his pain. Not their weapons, not their pathetic armaments, so inferior to his Gundam. No, he took out his anger on the people who made the weapons that attacked his colony. He cut at the men who sought to dominate his proud warrior race. His people, so bound by honor and tradition that they sacrificed themselves to escape the humiliation of enslavement. He wanted to annihilate OZ, every last member, until only one remained, just as he was the only living member of his clan. Then it would be a proper battle, one warrior against one warrior. One victor, one corpse. No more chaos. Then it would be over. Until then, he would kill and keep on killing, each success leaving him emptier than the last. 

==================== End Chapter 12 =========================

Still awake? That was the longest chapter yet. Okay, so how did I do with Wufei? Let me know in a **_non-flame_** way. I really tried to portray him objectively and would love to hear opinions about my interpretation of his character. Just don't give me grief about not mentioning his wife. I'm not using that in this story.

_Disclaimer_: I'm running out of clever disclaimers, so I had an idea [readers run away, screaming like frightened chibis]. No really, it's a good idea. You'll like it! Leave me a funny disclaimer in your review (or email one to me if you like) and I'll pick the funniest to use at the end of the next chapter. 


	13. Operation Daybreak

**_I'm so SORRY!!!!!! Please don't give up on this fic!!!!!! I'm working on it, I promise!!!!!!!_**__

_I'm really sorry about how long it took me to update! I won't get into the numerous reasons, but I hope the wait hasn't discouraged any of you and I really, really hope y'all haven't given up on this story. I'm really trying to get back on track, so bear with me. This story is important to me and I really want to finish it. Thanks for sticking with me and the story!_

AN:  Apparently I made a few mistakes with regards to Wufei—for which I humbly apologize thank those who corrected me—but that just goes to show how much I actually paid attention to Wufei during the series. At least I didn't give in to the urge to do some character bashing (and I was sorely tempted).

Episode reference: Episodes 5, 6, 7, and 8 **Still Grows the Lilac**

Part II of the Lilac Princess

_Chapter 12_

_Operation Daybreak_

Zechs Merquise and his comrade, Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin, leaned against the hanger wall observing the latest round of repairs to the mobile suite prototype Tallgeese. Repairs had been delayed in the first few weeks following the attack on Lake Victoria Academy as all available hands were needed to clear rubble and assist in the salvage operation. Now, time was running out. Zechs had hoped to be able to use Tallgeese in the coming weeks, but as things stood, that would not be possible. It would, however, be possible to use the suit in another upcoming operation. Zechs rubbed one gloved palm with the other. Home. Soon he would be going home.

"I'm counting on you Otto."

"Leave it to me, sir." Otto called down from the left shoulder of Tallgeese. The older man had taken personal charge of the repairs. "The staff here are all highly skilled. I'll make sure it gets finished on time, sir."

"Are you absolutely positive this twenty year old suit is going to be any use to us?" Noin's soft voice was in stark contrast to the harsh sounds echoing through the hanger.

"It's probably more advanced than any OZ mobile suit currently available."

"You're kidding." Noin looked up at the antiquated machine skeptically and scoffed. "No way."

"Think about it. This Tallgeese is the prototype for all mobile suits, even the Gundams."

"The Gundams?"

Zechs nodded and Noin looked back at Tallgeese. True, it was a well-designed machine, but could it truly compete with a Gundam? In spite of its superior strength, and surprisingly advanced software, there were still outdated elements that had to be replaced or upgraded before the suit could be used. Then there was the question of whether a pilot could even handle such a beast. According to the diagnostics and simulations run over the past weeks, the suit was originally designed to be piloted and controlled through the assistance of a remote programmer. The alterations Otto and his team were making would eliminate the need for a third operator, but the question remained: could a lone pilot control Tallgeese?  

Noin ventured a side way glance at Zechs. If anyone could pilot that machine, it was him. She smirked a little at the hint of a grin lurking around his mouth. He was leaning casually against the wall, as she was, but his body language and what she could see of his facial expression, suggested an almost arrogant sense of confidence. He fought many personal demons, but Zechs never doubted his abilities in a mobile suit. Neither did Noin.

"Lieutenant Zechs. You have a call."

            Zechs nodded and excused himself as Noin continued to watch the technicians and engineers crawl over the large, white mobile suit. She half-wished that she could be up there with them, but knew she could not afford to get caught up in that endeavor. She had other things to worry about. Re-training, being cleared on every mobile suit model in service, and other activities to increase her strength and tactical abilities were her first priority now. Noin was in a full press to get herself back to where she was a year and a half ago. Back to battle form and away from the teacher she had become.

Since the attack on the school, her teaching duties were forfeit in favor of a more active role in the base itself. Not that she would have had much to do at the school anyway. Fifty percent of the compound was destroyed, most of the students were dead. The survivors were sent home, injured, or reassigned to other schools for the rest of the semester. Noin was glad that her current duties rarely required her to return to the campus compound. She didn't think she could bear the sight of the mound of rubble that once housed her students.

Lieutenant Noin left the hanger and headed towards the simulation bunker. Noin spent the few minutes it took to get to the bunker and change into a flight suit to psyche her self up. Her training has been tentative at first, but she soon found herself reverting to the old battle instincts that had lain dormant for so long. Her motivation, at first, was to avenge her dead students, but as time wore on and His Excellency's plans began to come to fruition, Noin's focus shifted. She was getting better, stronger, but she still had a long way to go and she was determined to be at peak performance by the time her skills were needed. Soon she and other OZ officers like her would finally step forward to fulfill the promises they made to His Excellency and the world when they pledged themselves to the Specials. 

=======================

"Is this a complete account, officer? Have the numbers _finally_ been confirmed?"

"Yes, Lady Une," the Specials officer replied nervously, "all have been accounted for, survivors and casualties."

Une dismissed the annoying lieutenant and walked back into her office, making quite certain that the door was closed and locked behind her. She walked slowly to the desk and sat down heavily in the smooth, leather chair. She reread the report still clutched tightly in her hands. Two hundred and thirty-four Lake Victoria Academy cadets dead. She held a complete list of names in her hand. It wasn't supposed to end like that. Her plan had been to sacrifice the mobile suit factory. 

The rebels attacked the barracks but left the suits intact, all save a cursory transport that managed to foolishly take off after the attack. Why leave the suits and kill the pilots? What sort of soldiers were these people? From a military standpoint, it was a foolish decision. As long as the suits were in tact, soldiers could be found to pilot them. In theory, people are expendable. It is the costly technology that must be protected. Not to mention the fact that it totally ruined her carefully laid plan.

The attack on Lake Victoria had been expected, counted on in fact. As the major factory for new mobile suit designs, it was the next logical target. Ostensibly, LV base was the primary source for Space Tauruses and other new designs. In reality, it was a decoy. The real manufacturing hub was located on the Australian continent well hidden in bush country. Lake Victoria base was set up as a working and successful testing and manufacturing facility for no other reason than to attract attention and divert public scrutiny from the real mobile suit stock piles in Australia.

For the past three months, two secret manufacturing bases had been in full operation, cranking out the new Taurus models twenty-four hours a day. The loss of the Victoria plant would seem to be a blow, but in reality did not seriously effect the number of battle-ready suits in OZ's arsenal. The plan had been two-fold. First, the enemy would assume that the loss would cripple the Specials. This, in turn, would lull the enemy into a false sense of superiority, which could be exploited. Second, it would sway public opinion in their favor. Both aspects of her plan worked, the latter being much more than expected given the staggering number of deaths. Casualties had been expected, of course, but she had estimated no more than sixty or seventy. Two hundred and thirty-four young pilots was not what she had in mind. 

_Two  hundred and thirty-four innocents…_

**They weren't innocent. They were soldiers.**

_They were children…_

**They committed their lives to serving His Excellency.**

_They were looking for something to believe in…_

**They were looking for glory.**

_Just like me._

**Just like me**.

            Une stood wearily and straightened her uniform. His Excellency was expecting her report. She walked briskly towards Mr. Treize's suite. Her boot heels clacked in a steady rhythm, the sound echoing through the marbled halls of the grand mansion her commanding officer used for his base of operations and private residence. She arrived at the massive oak doors leading to his private quarters and knocked. A resonate, placid voice gave permission for her entrance and the Lady stepped inside. 

            Une gave a slight bow and greeting, assiduously ignoring the fact that His Excellency was in the midst of disrobing. His obligatory Romefellar uniform lay in a careless heap on a nearby chair. Une made a mental note to have the uniform picked up immediately and sent to the cleaners. She also noted the sad state of the brass buttons and vowed to polish those herself. The servants never could seem produce the luster Lady Une preferred. 

            "Your report, Lady?" Treize Kushrenada asked in the same low, even voice he maintained for every situation. He could order an assassination and a cup of tea in the same voice, with the same casual, dismissive tone. His voice, as his ideals, never faltered.

            "Yes, Excellency." As Treize finished undressing and shrugged into a robe, Lady Une read out the details of the final report on the Lake Victoria Academy attack. If His Excellency was as shocked by the numbers as Une had been, he showed no indication. His only response was a calm, "Hmm" and the order to commandeer two Alliance school facilities to train the displaced Specials Cadets. His mind was working at twice the speed of his words, Une could tell. He always squinted just so when he was forming a plan or analyzing how best to turn a situation to his advantage. 

            "I want an additional one hundred recruiters sent out to pick new Specials candidates. Make certain that the media follows up on this story regularly with a special emphasis on the age of the students who died. It might be prudent to give some of the students permission to share their stories with news correspondents, as well. Our public image has improved considerably since the attacks began and we have the opportunity to increase our numbers significantly. Not to mention the fact that our new popularity will fit in nicely with the upcoming operation. I believe the public will be all the more willing to accept the change of leadership."

            As he spoke, the duke walked out of his suite towards the classical style bathhouse that housed his hot tub. Une followed, making a few notes as to how best to carry out His Excellency's orders and mentally admiring the ease of the man's ability to see the situation as a potential gain. She had been caught up in her own failure and the sheer tragedy, unable to see past the number of dead. His Excellency, on the other hand, did what he did best. Used an unexpected turn of events to his own advantage. 

            The pair arrived at the ornate marble bath house. She took the silk robe as His Excellency slipped it off and allowed herself to watch as the young man slowly sank into the warm, bubbling water. It was fitting, Une thought, that the bath house was constructed in the style of a Greek temple. His Excellency was as close to those ancient gods as one mere human could be, both in physical perfection and benevolent leadership. She shook away those errant thoughts at the sound of His Excellency's deep, quiet voice.

            "I don't see the rose essence?"

            "No, Excellency. The shipment was delayed."

            "Disappointing."

            Treize watched a fleeting look of shame on Lady Une's face as she made a hasty note on her clipboard. No doubt, the next evening, his bath would be rich with rose essence. He smiled lightly as he settled himself into the hot water, allowing the heat to penetrate his sore muscles. He liked this point of the day. Sitting in his tub, only the Lady to attend him with no fear of his image slipping. He sat, merely relaxing, for several minutes as Lady Une stood in dutiful silence. It was a great bonus to the young duke to have a second who understood him so well. She would not pester him for instructions or with questions. She would simply wait until he was ready to speak. 

            The duke opened his eyes a millimeter and looked at the young woman as she flipped through a few reports, made a few notes and waited. He enjoyed watching her when she was unaware. It was not something he could do openly, for obvious reasons, but he did enjoy watching the Lady. She stood ramrod straight, yet graceful. Her cheeks were ruddy from the steam drifting from the tub. Her eyeglasses bore a trace of fog, slipping down her nose only to be pushed back by a slender, elegant finger. Not for the first time Treize had the fleeting urge to ask her to join him, just to see her reaction. He would not, of course, but what if? Intense blue eyes traveled leisurely over the Lady's slender, uniformed figure. Treize smiled, eternally amused by the Lady's insistence on hiding her stunning beauty with useless glasses and a severe hairstyle from another era. It did no good. Any fool could see Aneke Une's loveliness. 

            Treize took a breath and chased away his mildly lecherous thoughts. Colonel Une was not there for his recreation, she was there for OZ and he would not insult her by suggesting anything different. For as much as Treize wanted her, he _needed_ her more. Needed the Lady's support, advice, unwavering loyalty. Needed her friendship and, most of all, her good opinion. He was accustomed to being admired. The adoration of his troops, his peers at Romefellar and the public at large was quite satisfactory, but it was also based upon a false impression of His Excellency, an illusion Treize created for public consumption. Few truly knew the young man, fewer still truly understood him, but Aneke Une was one of them and he had grown dependant on that understanding. Treize finally spoke, asking for the latest reports, which Lady Une recited with efficient calm.

"So," Treize said thoughtfully, "The Alliance is assembling the Armed Forces at the Lagrange Point? I could not agree more."

"Leaking the information turned out to be very effective."

"Yes…I think a few more well placed rumors are in order for the upcoming conference."

"Yes sir. If we leak the fact that most of the Alliance hierarchy will be at the conference, the Gundams should take the bait."

"Yes, quite. Only instead of killing the real enemy, they shall be removing the pacifists and neutrals from my path." Treize smiled, pleased by his plan to manipulate the Alliance into declaring war as well as discredit the Gundams by blaming them for the deaths of the Alliance's only pro-colony officers. All but one. "By the way, Lady Une...about Vice Foreign Minister Darlian..."

"I'll take care of it personally...and I will have the rose-fragrance ready for your bath next time."

Treize smiled smugly. "Please do."

==========

            It was coming. Much sooner than expected, but Zechs couldn't say he was disturbed by that. The sudden appearance of the Gundams had set everything on edge for far too long and he was anxious to settle the Alliance matter as soon as possible in order to redirect his efforts in getting Tallgeese finished and ready to battle the Gundams. As he walked back into the hanger, the young officer contemplated the outcome of the upcoming operation. It was what he and every member of OZ had been preparing for since first putting on the distinctive uniform. It was what he had waited for since he was six years old. 

Zechs slipped back into the hanger and spotted Noin, dressed in her training clothes speaking to Otto. He stopped and watched from a distance for a few moments. Noin was absorbed in her conversation with Lieutenant Otto, so did not notice his approach. Zechs watched as she asked eager questions, pointing now and then, eyes bright with wonder. The noise in the hanger was enough to necessitate Otto leaning forward to make himself heard. Zechs frowned as the older man leaned down, his mouth near Noin's ear, and spoke. Noin nodded, and repeated the action in reverse. This continued for a few minutes before Zechs, a bit annoyed by the intimacy of their conversation, stepped forward. 

Noin noticed him first. "Hello lieutenant," she shouted over the din. "I was taking a break and decided to check up on Otto here. He's discovered some interesting things concerning the original operational system."

Otto immediately pulled himself into a salute and passed the electronic clipboard to his superior officer, relaying some surprising new information as to the capability of Tallgeese. The three discussed the suit for several minutes, comparing its weaponry and power to what was known of the mysterious Gundams. It was agreed that this suit was not only comparable to those newer versions, possibly superior in certain aspects. As Zechs suspected, it was most certainly the template from which all mobile suits, even the Gundams, were based upon. 

Unfortunately, the conversation began to turn and at Otto's instigation. He suddenly asked Noin about her days at LVA and her notorious early rivalry with one Zechs Merquise. Noin laughed prettily and related a few unflattering stories, forcing Zechs to defend himself. He tried to behave as everyone expected, an old school chum reminiscing with a classmate, but it felt stiff and unnatural, particularly with Otto looming over, absorbing everything. Though Otto had proven himself quite an asset over the past month, Zechs still felt uncomfortable in the man's presence. It was paranoid, he knew, but a little paranoia was warranted in this case. Otto had yet to give Zechs any reason for his persistence mistrust, but personal questions such as those posed throughout the course of their current conversation only served to put the lieutenant on edge. 

Noin's gaze cut briefly to Otto's retreating back then returned to her companion. She studied him for a second, then mouthed the words, _'what's going on?'_

            Zechs shrugged noncommittally and almost walked away, but he knew that would never do. Noin would follow him and eventually pry it out of him. Zechs decided to save himself the trouble and just tell her. Actually, he thought, it would be a relief to tell someone about his concerns. Holding his secret in for so long was beginning to take its toll on his stress levels. Inclining his head towards the door, he led Noin outside into the warm afternoon air. 

            Picking up on the fact that the conversation should take place in private, Noin suggested they take a walk along the treeline. The pair strolled casually across the compound, heading for the old familiar paths that wound through the wooded areas surrounding the base. Half way there, Noin was stopped by a tall young officer. Baker, Noin called him. He was too thin, too tall and smiled at Noin in that goofy way some pathetic fools had when face with such beauty. He stopped a few feet away so as to avoid an unnecessary introduction and allowed the two to speak undisturbed. He turned away politely. It was none of his business.

"Noin…you look great!"

That was the best the guy could do? You look great, Noin? Oh…wait. He said basically the same thing when he called en route to the base…but that was different. _He_ was Zechs, an old friend, a fellow officer...

"I was going into the port city," Baker prattled on, "would you like to grab some dinner later?"

None of his business, none of his business, none of his business…

"I'm busy tonight, but thanks for the invitation."

That's right. Busy, busy, busy. God, she couldn't possibly be interested in a guy like Baker, could she?

"Okay," the young officer said in a distinctly disappointed tone. Shooting a glance at Zechs, he concluded. "See you around then."

Quite right. Move along. Nothing to see here…

            "See you around, Baker." Noin smiled nicely and gave a wave.

            They continued on in silence until they reached the path. A quick survey revealed to Zechs that they were on the path that led around to the academy compound and beyond. Ten minutes later, they were on their way down a second path, this one obscured by heavy growth. They were on their way to the old homestead they used as a hideaway when they were cadets. It didn't take long to find the place, but it did take some time to scramble over the roots and brush that had grown up in the four years since they last entered the small stone structure. 

To Zechs' surprise, it looked much the same. The curtains were dusty, the meager furniture was worn, a few more stones had fallen from the walls, but it was essentially the same. He walked around, absently kicking at bits of broken masonry and peeking out of the curtains as he remembered the day they stumbled upon the place. That day they renewed their friendship, or rather, they built a new one out of the remnants of the old. It was the most important friendship in his life at the time, but one he set aside for a grander goal. Revenge.

"So why don't you trust him?" Noin's voice floated quietly across the room. Zechs turned to find her still standing in the low doorway, her arms crossed across her middle and head tilted to see around a thick curtain of black hair.

"Pardon?" His tone was casual, emotionless. 

"Otto…Lieutenant Weir."

"It's not that I don't trust him…"

"Yes it is."

"Okay," Zechs sighed, crossing to the crumbling hearth. "I don't trust him."

"Why?" Noin joined him and leaned against the mantel. Her expression was concerned and curious, a look he knew well. She would not let the situation go until he told her the truth. 

"He was there. He saw me."

            She looked puzzled for a moment then frowned deeply. "Where?" When he did not answer, Noin asked, "Cinq?"

"Yes."

"Has he said anything? I mean does he…?"

"He hasn't seen me without my mask…and he has given me no reason to mistrust him."

"But he hasn't given you any reason to trust him, either."

"Actually, he has. Otto has proven himself loyal and capable."

"But you don't trust him."

Zechs turned to lean against the mantle and crossed his arms. "The problem is this: should he ever discover I am the child he allowed to escape all those years ago, what will he do? He is the only other person, besides you, who knows my sister is still alive. Can I risk Relena's safety by trusting this man?"

"The key point being whether or not he sees you without the mask, Zechs."

"I suppose," Zechs conceded, "and that is unlikely, isn't it?"

"Relena is far away, living with a new family and a new name. At the moment, she is safer than you are."

"Yes. I just wish I could be sure about Otto's loyalty."

"Even if Otto does see you at some point, the last time he saw you was thirteen years ago. You have changed a little since then."

Zechs smiled a bit. "Have I?"

"Um-hmm…for one thing, you're finally taller than me," Noin teased. "When we were six, I could still look you in the eye."

Zechs turned sideways again, facing her. "Yes, but now I have this wonderful view of the top of your head…by the way, your part is crooked."

Noin swatted his arm, but ran a hand through her hair anyway, eliciting a smirk from her companion. Her bangs flipped back into her face, obscuring one eye and Zechs suddenly found that unacceptable. He reached out and flicked the hair away from her face, holding it back with one hand. Noin looked up at him, smiling that smile. The one that sent men like Baker into the throes of idiocy and robbed men such as Zechs of their ability to articulate any coherent thought. It had been a very long time since Zechs took the time, or trouble, to notice a woman's smile. It had been a long time since Zechs bothered to notice a woman at all, particularly one as beautiful as Noin. It was a distraction he did not need. At that moment, however, surrounded by the dusty memories offered at their hideaway, Zechs allowed his inborn appreciation for such things press forward in his mind. Noin was perfect. From her scuffed flight boots to her mussed hair and every wrinkle in between.

            Noin's cheeks reddened gradually and she whispered, "Zechs…"

            He waited, expecting a question or comment, perhaps a wry joke, but she fell silent then and Zechs did not feel then need to fill that silence. He tilted her face up, to get a better view, and leaned forward gradually, almost imperceptibly. His heart sped up as did his breathing. He suddenly realized how close they were, how close his face was to hers. 

            A sudden peal of raucous laughter startled the two young people and they stepped apart just as two OZ technicians stumbled through the doorway. Had they been paying attention, the boy and girl who entered would have pulled themselves together immediately and offered Lieutenants Noin and Merquise salutes. Unfortunately for them, they were too busy kissing and tugging at each other's jackets to notice anything until Lieutenant Noin cleared her throat. The girl let out a squeak and fell back onto her bottom as her paramour suddenly let go and pulled himself to attention. She scrambled to her feet, fumbling with the top buttons on her tunic and saluted as well.

            "S-sorry ma'am…sir…we…uh…we didn't know anyone was here…"

"Evidently."

"Um…well…" The young man fumbled for some explanation, but Noin generously let the couple off the hook.

            "Dismissed, officers."

            "Yes ma'am!" they said in unison and scrambled out the door. Zechs overheard the young man mutter, "Geez…don't they know to tie a red bandanna on the tree before they go into the love shack?"

            _Love shack!_? What the _hell_? "Noin?"

            Noin giggled. "Oh yeah. I forgot to mention…"

            "Mention what?"

            "Uh…apparently, after we graduated, a couple of new cadets found this place and well, it eventually became the local make out point. When I first started teaching, I came up here to see the old place and stumbled upon a couple of cadets…well, let's just say I won't sit on that couch _ever_ again."

            Ew. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" Zechs demanded hotly.

            Noin, clearly taken aback by his sudden anger, replied, "It didn't seem important."

"Didn't seem important? Do you have any idea how this looks? The _last_ thing I need right now is for any distasteful rumors to get started. If it gets back to Romefellar that I'm trifling with an officer under my command--"

His tirade ceased the moment Zechs looked up and caught a glimpse of Noin's expression of cold anger.

"I'm sorry that the idea of being with me offends you so, _lieutenant_."

Damn.

Noin spun on her heel and stalked to the door. "We should return to base before those _distasteful_ rumors get started." 

Zechs following several paces behind. He hadn't meant it quite like that of course. He simply didn't want his enemies to misinterpret the situation and assume Noin could be used against him. He had enough weaknesses of his own, he certainly didn't need an imagined romantic entanglement haunting him. Not only would the Alliance officers who despised him find a way to use such information against him, his superiors at Romefellar would be quite put out as well. Though respected by the military wing of OZ, Noin was not well-thought of by Romefeller's directors simply by virtue of being of uncertain birth and if they thought he was involved with such a young woman, it could only mean trouble for them both. 

And then there was the old, nagging fear he kept buried deep inside. Pushed so far down into his subconscious that even he could hide from it on occasion, but not always. It was the fear of loving her only to lose her again. He had been through that once before and couldn't bear the thought of enduring such pain again. He was no longer equipped to deal with heartbreak, having for so long denied himself the right to care for anyone or anything beyond his need for revenge. But of course, he hadn't qualified his statement, simply blurted out the most obnoxious thing that popped into his head. 

Zechs was already overly sensitive to the possibility of wrong assumptions because of their current living arrangement. The school having been all but destroyed, any remaining staff or other personnel were moved onto the base. Housing had been nearly full to begin, but with the influx of so many, officers were required to double up. Noin's apartment was on the base instead of the school and large enough to accommodate them both, so she had offered the use of her couch. Zechs had accepted, of course, and thought nothing of it until the first raised eyebrow he encountered upon exiting Noin's home early one morning. Now he could see his foolish mistake, but it was too late. At this point his only other options were a sleeping bag in the quad or the cockpit of Tallgeese. Zechs watched Noin stomping ahead of him, her fists clenched and back rigid. The cockpit of Tallgeese was looking better and better…

==============

That stupid little brat!

Une limped along towards her quarters, pausing as she entered to rearrange her uniform and clean herself up before crossing to the communicator. She had succeeded in assassinating Dorlian, as ordered, but just barely. That daughter of his almost ruined the whole scheme. To make matters worse, she escaped. At that moment, Une had no idea where the girl was or who she was speaking to which gave little or no time to counteract whatever the girl decided to tell the press. Une's only hope was to set up a press conference immediately and prevent the truth from being revealed. She made a quick call to her contacts within the media. A press conference would be set up within the hour. Just enough time to contact His Excellency.

"It's done, Excellency."

"Good. All went well, I hope?"

Une paused briefly, embarrassed to admit that all had not gone well. "There was a witness, sir, but she will be taken care of shortly."

"A witness? That's not like you Lady."

"As I said, sir. She will be dealt with."

"Of that I have no doubt. The important thing is that Dorlian is no longer a threat to our plan."

"With the Vice Foreign Minister gone now, there is no one to mediate the dispute between Earth and the colonies."

 "He was indeed an excellent diplomat. In general, that kind of person tends to become the first sacrifice for a new era….was there any collateral damage?" His Excellency asked the question in the same smooth voice he used to order his next meal, but Une knew his interest in the answer was far from casual. 

"Twelve others were killed. Their names are in the report I will file upon my return."  
            "Good. I look forward to seeing your performance on the telecast this evening."

===============

The news of Minister Dorlian's assassination was broadcast within hours of the attack. Lady Une, true to form, put a brilliant pro-OZ spin on the entire situation, blaming rebellious colonists for the tragedy. Zechs had watched the broadcast silently, seemingly with only a passing interest, but Noin could see his fists balled tightly, gloved fingers digging into his palms. Teeth clenched as tightly as his hands when the video of Dorlian and his young daughter appeared. He expressed some sympathy for the girl, that in and of itself enough to betray his concern, but then dismissed Noin's questions and excused himself. Noin was still a little miffed by his earlier behavior and did not bother to pursue the matter until she redirected her attention to the news report. Footage of  Relena popped up and Noin gasped softly. The girl's resemblance to the late queen of Cinq was so uncanny that Noin gasped in shock, spinning around in time to see Zechs disappear into the bathroom. The minute the door closed, Noin heard the faucet. He was washing his hands again. 

Over the past month, she had the opportunity to observe Lieutenant Zechs quite a lot. When he had his own quarters, it was easy to overlook some of the odd behavior that he often indulged in now days. Sharing an apartment now, though, Noin had noticed several things that began to disturb her. First, the hand washing. She could almost predict when the young man would excuse himself to wash his hands, though he almost always offered some other excuse. It was beginning to border on the compulsive. He rarely removed his gloves, just as he rarely removed his mask. Both were to hide the evidence of his increasing feelings of guilt. Perhaps if she had not known him for so long, Noin could dismiss both ideas, but she did know him. Better than anyone.

Zechs was also given to nightmares now and slept little. Many nights she was awakened by the sounds of light steps in the living room. Pacing, clinking of glass as he poured himself a drink of water or, more likely, wine. She knew that night would be no different. If he was able to sleep at all, it would not be for long, so Noin stayed up late, waiting and listening for the tell tale noises that eventually drifted in from the other room. She slipped out of bed and padded to the door in search of her nocturnal friend.

As expected, Noin found him awake, shirtless and bare foot, standing in front of the living room window. Free of his obligatory mask, his platinum hair glowed silver in the moonlight, giving the young man an otherworldly air. His skin had pinked up in the harsh African sun, a few stray freckles here and there, but he was still pale, even more so bathed in starlight. Noin stopped dead in her tracks, fearful that if she moved or made a noise the apparition in front of her would burst and fade away.  

"Noin."

She started slightly as his deep voice broke the silence, blushing at the fact that she had been staring and been caught. Purposely directing her gaze away from Zechs and towards the window, she apologized for her intrusion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you," she started as she joined him at the window, "I was concerned. You haven't been sleeping lately. Is it the couch?" she asked, knowing it wasn't the cause but compelled, out of a sense of politeness, to suggest the following anyway. "We could trade. You take my room and I'll camp out here."

Zechs grunted slightly, a vaguely amused sound but at the same time...not. "No. The couch is quite comfortable. I sleep as well as I ever do." 

Noin ventured a glance at his face, close enough to see his expression clearly, and was shocked to find the man's eyes glittering with unshed tears. Speechless, she stared again, watching as one lone drop of salty sorrow trickled from the corner of his eye and traced a path down his cheek. Noin reached up, gently stopping the tear's escape with a brush of her thumb. Slender fingers lingered upon an unshaven cheek. Silence, heavy with unspoken sorrows, hung about them. Zechs looked slowly towards Noin, his sorrowful expression saying what he could not. 

"Oh, Zechs," she breathed in sympathy. Hesitantly, Noin withdrew her hand, reaching back to graze his chin with her fingertips before letting her hand drop to his bare chest. She began to pull it away almost immediately, but Zechs caught her wrist and held her hand where it rested, covering it with his own as their eyes locked. And so they stayed. Hours, minutes, neither could tell, neither cared. One offered unspoken understanding and comfort, the other expressing silent fears and unacknowledged regrets.

"She'll be okay, Zechs. Pagan is with her and..." Noin bit her lip, wondering if she should continue. Finally she decided that easing Zechs' fears was better than avoiding a potential fight. "And I spoke to His Excellency on your behalf. Relena won't be in threatened by OZ in the future. I mentioned that she is a distant relative, but not that she is your sister." She expected surprise, a scowl of anger, some adverse reaction. Instead, Zechs nodded, resignedly and said simply, "Thank you," before falling silent for several minutes.  He swallowed hard before continuing. "I thought if I stayed away, she would be safe, that I could protect her by removing myself from her life, but now..." he shook his head, "There is nothing I can do."

"This isn't your fault."

Zechs placed his free hand atop the other, trapping Noin's hand firmly beneath his own. "Promise me this: if something happens, if I..." Noin flinched as Zechs let the possibilities hang in the air, "just promise me you will go to Relena and protect her for me. Promise to be a sister to Rena, even if I can't be her brother."

"I promise." It was all she could manage and even that was spoken in a broken whisper, thick with emotion.

Zechs squeezed her trapped hand and reached down to take the other. "Thank you, Luie."

Noin nodded and smiled softly, unsure what to make of the fact that he used that old nickname. Zechs was facing her now and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to imply…"

"I know, Zechs. It's okay…"

"No…I…" he sighed heavily, "things are becoming complicated very quickly."

Noin pulled back to look of at her friend. He wasn't speaking about their relationship anymore. "What is it? Is there a new plan to capture the Gundams?"

            "Not specifically, no."

            Noin nodded, "Then it's...?"

"I spoke to Treize…it's time…"

"So soon?"

"Yes. The order will be officially given in two days, but I thought you should know…to have time to prepare."

"Operation Daybreak," Noin murmured, "_finally_."

"Yes. We leave to intercept five mobile suit divisions over Nairobi in three days. You and I are to lead the uprising in the African theatre." He paused, looking back out at the night sky. When Zechs spoke again, it was with a cold tone, devoid of any feeling other than determined hate. "Finally the Alliance will be made to pay for its crimes."

            Noin merely nodded. They were close to destroying the very people who had destroyed their lives more than thirteen years prior. It had been a long, painful road to travel, but now they were on the verge of delivering justice…or was it simple revenge? Either way, the world was on the verge of a violent, bloody rebirth. 

            "Well, it's practically dawn." Zechs commented quietly, "We might as well get the day started. Why don't I fix breakfast?"

"That's a nice thought, Zechs, but you can't cook for sh…"

"Now, now." Zechs admonished mockingly, "Such coarse language from such a refined _lady_."

"Oh, don't start the milady crap again." She gave him a little shove. "Go take a shower."

"That wouldn't by any chance be a comment on how I smell?"

Yeah. Smell good. Very good. No shirt. Very, very good. Bad, Noin, Bad. 

"Your hair is sticking up." She said flippantly, hastily shoving her head inside the refrigerator as though looking for food but in reality to hide a blush. "I just thought you might need some extra time with the detangler."

Noin glanced back over her shoulder and smirked as Zechs' hand flew to his hair. He scowled a little and tripped off to the bathroom.

=====================

            Treize Kushrenada smiled surreptitiously as he watched the scene unfold before him. It was just past noon at the New Edward's base and already his plan was well underway. Scant moments before, the plane carrying the handful of peace-minded Alliance command officers was destroyed, cut in two by a particularly vicious and efficient Gundam pilot. His Excellency sat in the safe comfort of his personal transport, sipping wine and listening to the reports blaring over the communications channels. Those Gundams, brilliant soldiers though they might be, had played right into his hands. Even as Treize enjoyed the first tingles of complete victory, General Septum, the only surviving member of the Alliance command structure for the Space Forces, was in the cargo hold broadcasting an official declaration of war against the colonies. Everything was going just as planned. 

"We will not give in to the Colonies! We will fight to the end."

Indeed. Treize smiled at the irony. He had no doubt Septum meant precisely what he said. Of course the general had no way of knowing his end was about to come upon him. A loud roar of air and the muted sound of a gunshot echoed through the cabin of Treize's transport. It was done. Now people could cast off their doubts and accept a change in history. He activated his comlink, connecting to the open channel he had orders with OZ command officers all over the world. He gave the order and shut down the link, settling himself back into his plush seat as Une returned and took a seat across from him. She looked at him with the hint of a smile hovering about her pert mouth. He met her expression with a smile of his own.

====================

Over Nairobi, Zechs Merquise and Lucretzia Noin waited. Lieutenant Merquies' transport maintained a holding pattern along with  three divisions of mobile suit carriers. They had arrived only thirty minutes before, but already the Alliance base below them was getting nervous, calling every few minutes for a status. The Alliance base had been told the Specials were participating in an unscheduled war game, an excuse they accepted readily enough thirty minutes ago, but as the minutes passed and the swarm of Specials craft circled overhead, they grew understandably nervous. Zechs rubbed his palm with a thumb. He had to admit. He was no less nervous himself. Almost there. Almost.

It would be over soon. Even by his own conservative estimates, the coup should be complete by the following morning. That was how well organized they were and how complete the infiltration of OZ officers throughout Alliance command. Zechs couldn't help shaking his head at the irony. Fifty years prior, the Alliance had taken control of the world's scattered, disjointed governments in much the same way. For all of Treize's talk of elegance in combat, they were resorting to the same treachery that brought the Alliance to power in the first place. 

OZ, Alliance…was the difference really so great? He doubted it. Total control by the military or total control by the aristocracy. The world was exchanging the rusted chains of the Alliance for the gilded cage of Romefellar. It would not matter. But still Zechs would fight. Fight and win. Vengeance was at had and he would not hold back. 

His thoughts were suddenly broken by subtle movements to his right. He glanced sideways at his companion and studied her from behind the cover of his mask. Noin. Zechs knew why he was fighting, but why was she? Her own anger aside, Noin was not one for revenge. No she fought for the purer cause of liberty. She told him freedom came at a price and that price was often blood, but did she honestly believe OZ offered the world _freedom_? He wondered too, what would become of her grand ideals when the bloodshed began. It had been almost two years since she fought in actual battle and she had never fought in such a massive campaign. Hundreds of thousands could die that night and she would be as drenched in their blood as he. Two years ago, Zechs would not have questioned his fellow officer's ability to withstand the rigors of the uprising, but now? He remembered how she mourned her fallen students, how she still mourned them. Her heart had become more maternal since she gave up her gun and took up the role of teacher. Could she handle killing young Alliance soldiers who were the same age as her dead students?

 "Noin…this battle may not be what you expect." He turned to face her, "You may feel disturbed about it later."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. I understand what we are trying to accomplish. I won't let you down." Noin looked down, her arms crossed over her stomach. She looked as though she were hugging herself, trying to offer herself reassurance that her words reflected the truth. "This is for the good of all."

'Hm…sometimes I don't know," Zechs murmured, " …I doubt the world will change significantly under the rule of OZ as opposed to the Alliance. Is there really a difference?"

Noin gave him a firm look, full of determination. "I think you know the answer to that, Zechs."

Did he? "Perhaps."

"Sir!" The pilot broke in excitedly, "We've just received word from Colonel Treize. We are to commence Operation Daybreak."

"Very well," Zechs said standing, "You all know your duty. Perform well and we will usher in a new era."

"Aye Sir!"

"Everyone to their suits."

Noin trotted to her suit and strapped in, quickly running through preflight procedures and then giving the order for her team to launch. She gripped the controls nervously, her palms becoming slick with sweat. She took a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to slow and her mind to clear. This was the battle she had been preparing for since His Excellency recruited her to OZ six years previously. It was _the_ battle. The dawn of a new era. 

"Move out!" __

~Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And you, Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into Hell Satan and the other evil spirits who prowl the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.~

Noin's troops followed close behind their commander, each holding their assigned position and performing to perfection. As they approached the base, Noin sent out the signal code and immediately twenty mobile suits on the ground below sent back the appropriate confirmation. Twenty Aries raised their rifles and turned to fire upon their comrades…__

~Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirit of wickedness in the high places.~ 

In the first thirty minutes of the attack, half of the Alliance forces were annihilated. Despite being taken completely by surprise, Alliance pilots had managed to scramble and meet the attack as it began. Unfortunately, they had no idea that their Specials comrades were part of that attack. Noin tried to ignore the shouts of surprise and the pleas from Alliance soldiers as their former friends turned and fired. __

~Take hold of the dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, bind him, and cast him into the bottomless pit so that he should no more seduce the nations. Amen.~

Noin landed and barked orders to her team. The perimeter was secure, the command center captured…or what was left of the command center. Much of the Nairobi complex was in ruins. She leapt from her mobile suit, coughing as she took in a lungful of smoke from the few lingering fires about the base. Alliance medical teams scrambled about, treating their fellow soldiers and Noin ordered a small team of her men to watch over the medics, as much for the doctors' protection as to ensure that none of the enemy officers managed to escape. 

The survivors were rounded up and marched to the main hanger. Now for the speech, the chance for the misguided young Alliance soldiers—children who, like Noin, had been forced into the military—to have the opportunity finally to chose their own path. Granted it wasn't much of a choice, prison or OZ, but for most of those young people it was the first chance to make their own choice about anything. Noin took up position with the line of OZ officers standing behind Zechs Merquise. They were an impressive sight, she had to admit. A line of regal-looking young officers supporting their crimson-clad leader as he spoke of the future. 

"Your resistance is futile. We need as many comrades as possible. The tyranny of the Alliance is over. Our OZ organization will give rise to a _true_ alliance! Let us create a new world together!" 

Applause broke out among the ranks, both OZ and Alliance.

 "_He's good,"_ Noin thought with an inward smirk, "_I wonder how much of that he actually means?"_

Zechs walked back to his officers, gave a few commands and motioned for Noin to follow him. She caught up as they reached their mobile suits and gave her report. 

"The base is secured, sir. We should set up a command post at--"

"No."

"Lieutenant?"

"There are enough Senior OZ officers here to maintain control of the base. Besides which, most of those we captured seem willing and eager to join our ranks. We should move on to the next objective."

"And that would be….?"

"The Alliance headquarters for the European theatre. The troops there have been putting up one hell of a resistance."

Noin looked straight ahead, struggling to keep her expression impassive. "Luxembourg…General O'Neguil."

            And so they would finally face the dragon.

===================

The carefully planned coup d'etat had been carried out to perfection. Casualties were high on both sides, but since strikes had been limited to key Alliance bases and command posts, civilian casualties were minimal. It was the culmination of twenty years of careful preparation and deference to the increasingly arrogant Alliance. Over the past twenty years, members of OZ had infiltrated every Alliance base on Earth. The Alliance's own arrogance and complacency had served OZ's objectives well. Over the course of twenty-four hours, the world's rulers were disposed and replaced by Romefellar's disenfranchised aristocracy. There were still a few skirmishes here and there, one of the most notable in Luxembourg at the Alliance headquarters, but even these few resistors had no hope. 

            Une stood, silent and rigid, watching His Excellency give his first speech since the overthrow. He, as always, cut quite the figure. It was doubtful that any civilian on the planet would dispute him at that moment as he praised the 'freedom fighters' of OZ and heralded a new dawn for the people of Earth. Une appeared to be listening intently to her commander, but in reality, she was replaying an earlier conversation that took place after her failure to destroy the Gundams at New Edwards. 

            Her plan seemed a logical one. Detonate the missiles at the base while the Gundams were still there. Destroy all five at once as well as the evidence of OZ's treachery. His Excellency, however, had not approved.

"Apparently, one of the Gundam pilots deactivated the system and prevented the explosion." 

_"Well then," Treize replied evenly, " we all owe a debt to that pilot... The Earth is fragile, Lady. Our assaults upon it must few and well timed. Besides, detonating a hundred missiles seems a bit much, even for the Gundams. It's a bit like using a canon for target practice. There is no elegance in wanton destruction without purpose. We have to thank the Gundams this time and you, Lady, need to learn more about OZ."_

"Learn about OZ?" Une mumbled to herself. What had His Excellency meant by that? Elegance. He always spoke of elegance in battle, but Une saw only objectives to be met and targets to be captured. As long as victory was won, the means by which that victory was achieved meant little to her. Collateral damage was unavoidable in any battle. The outcome was more than worth the sacrifice of a few lives, His Excellency had said so himself. Then what had he meant? 

Une looked up as applause rang through the auditorium. She politely joined them, staring at her commanding officer, the great liberator, Treize Kushrenada and wondered what she was missing. What didn't she understand about OZ? Perhaps it wasn't a question of understanding OZ at all. Perhaps she did not understand His Excellency.

===================   
            The battle to capture the Alliance's European headquarters raged on for hours with little sign of letting up. Zechs, Noin and their troops had arrived four hours before and joined the fray. Since then, several key points had been captured and several hundred soldiers had been captured, but still the command post refused to surrender. Victory would be theirs, of this Lucretzia Noin had no doubt, but it would not be an easy victory. 

            Noin sat on her motorcycle on a cliff overlooking the main command building, waiting. After giving the appropriate orders and starting the attack, the two officers slipped away from the battle on motorcycles, hoping to infiltrate the compound unnoticed. They made it, though not without difficulty and, after insisting Noin wait for him, Zechs started towards the command building…towards the general responsible for annihilating his entire family before his very eyes.

            Noin had made an effort to talk him out of his plan, claiming that the man would most likely die in the battle, or in lieu of that, would surrender and be imprisoned by OZ, but Zechs would not be swayed. He was determined to witness the man's death, just as he had been forced to witness his parents' deaths. More than that, Zechs was determined to deliver the killing blow himself. Noin closed her eyes, praying for the scene to play out quickly. 

            Where would they be now if she had the guts to carry out that mission two years ago? If she had followed orders and assassinated Diego O'Neguil, would Zechs have been satisfied? It was no use wondering. Justice, retribution, revenge… it wouldn't matter once the act was committed. She watched the exits carefully, her heart pounding louder in her ears with every minute that passed. Zechs had been gone for so long. Noin began to worry that he had been caught. Her hand rested on the pistol holstered at her side. Five minutes. Five more minutes and she was going after him. 

With an audible sigh of relief, Noin spotted Zechs slipping out of the building and back into the cover of brush. He made his way up the embankment quickly and silently walked past her to his own bike a few feet away. He paused, his hand resting on the handle then seemed to change his mind and walked to a nearby tree. He leaned upon the trunk heavily, back to Noin, but she could see what he was feeling. She could tell from slump of his shoulders and the fist clenched tightly by his side. She dismounted her bike and walked up behind him, laying a gentle hand on his back.

"Zechs…?"

He stiffened under her touch and stood up straight, turning as he said in a tight, cold voice, "We should go. There are still some members of the Alliance putting up resistance in the town."

Noin watched as Zechs strode purposefully to his motorcycle. He had hoped to end it that day. End the years of tormented nights and blood soaked dreams by killing the man he held responsible. Noin knew Zechs had hoped to end his suffering and move on, but now he was realizing that his one act of vengeance ultimately meant nothing. O'neguil was dead. What of it? His family was still dead, his kingdom in ruins and he now had no goal to fuel him. She had tried to tell him all of that earlier, but he would not listen. Now he knew and it was too late to take it back. She couldn't convince him of his error before and could offer no solace after. Noin got on her motorcycle and followed Zechs back to the battlefield. All she could offer him now was her loyalty and hope that it would be enough. 

====================== End Chapter 13 ======================

Sorry for the crappiness in this chapter, but I ws really struggling. 

Just so I don't get questions, I'm not skimming over O'Neguil's death. Zechs will be dealing with this and other issues in the upcoming chapter, which, by the way, will cover the liberation of Cinq. Yes, for the record, I was tempted to insert a kiss during that in-front-of-the-window/ "protect my sister" scene, but I didn't think it would be in character. Not yet anyway….hehehehe….don't worry. There will be kissage later.

The next few chapters will skip huge portions of the series. I'm writing these last few chapters under the assumption that those who are reading it have a) memorized the series by now, b) have the tapes/dvds and can refresh their memories when needed, or c) know of the great GW sites with overviews, summaries and scripts (one being gundamwing.net although the scripts there are not strictly precise). So, the episode reference is to let you know what point in the series the chapter takes place.

_Tonight's guest disclaimer provided by_: Terrality  
  
"Relena may rule Cinq, that's true,  
And Amidala leads Naboo,  
So why can't I have Gundam Wing?"  
I ask, wistfully hoping,  
That when this is published,  
I will own more than my own thing.  
But alas that was not to be,  
So it does not be long to you OR me.

Isn't that cute? Thanks to everyone who sent me disclaimers. I will most likely use them all. 


	14. The Price of Revenge

**AN**: I took liberties with some of the dialogue (again) and very slightly re-wrote one scene from the series (not significantly, but it fit my story better), but I didn't tweak too much. It still reflects the intent of the original scene. I also skipped over quite a bit, so you might want to refresh your memory as to the events of the chapters listed below, either by watching the episodes or reading a summary of episodes 9 through about 13. Consider this complimentary material for all of the scenes I omitted.

As you read the first paragraph of this chapter, imagine the narrator from the series speaking…on second thought, he always sounds like he sucking on a cough drop when he speaks, so never mind…

Episode reference: episodes 9 through, uh 13? 

Still Grows the Lilac Part II of **The Lilac Princess** trilogy Chapter 14 The Price of Revenge 

In the year A.C. 195, the organization known as OZ staged a devastating coup against the tyrannical Earth Sphere Alliance. The coup was led by the charismatic young general, Duke Treize Kushrenada, who operated ostensibly under the orders of the Romefellar Foundation. OZ, a group made up of displaced nobles and the remnant of the once powerful aristocracies of the world, worked for decades to acquire the resources and power necessary to take back what they believed to be rightful theirs. The ambition of Romefellar knew no bounds, even going so far as to curry favor with the Alliance by providing mobile suits. Lulled into a sense of arrogant complacency and overconfidence, the Alliance leadership fell quickly. 

The last major target to fall was the Alliance's European headquarters in Luxembourg, the homeland of Duke Treize and the former sanctuary of his young protégé, Zechs Merquise. Although battles were still being waged across the planet, the primary targets were secured within forty-eight hours. Several key Alliance complexes were still unclaimed, however, and continued to mount counter offensives against the new leadership of the Romefellar Foundation. One of these pockets of resistance exists in the coastal regions of Northern Europe, in the area once known as the Cinq Kingdom. Liberating this forgotten kingdom became the driving motivation for one young OZ officer, Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. It was the lieutenant's intention to use the newly restored Tallgeese mobile suit in his effort to finally reestablish the once influential Peacecraft monarchy. _Tallgeese_, though originally designed and constructed twenty years prior, proved to be superior to any suit in operation at the time…with the exception of the Gundams.

Lieutenants Merquise and Noin of OZ's elite Mobile Suite Corps stood staring at the massive twenty-year old suit as it's temporary caretaker, Otto Weir, was carried to the infirmary.  Lieutenant Otto had been personally responsible for the last few repairs to the mobile suit as well as its first test pilot. Otto's efforts had provided invaluable information on the suits capabilities, but almost at the cost of his own life. According to Otto, the suit's acceleration was too much for him and he was unable to take an accurate measurement of Tallgeese's speeds. It was, apparently, a beast of a machine, designed with only performance and victory in mind, with little regard for the human pilot's well-being. This last fact was of particular interest to Zechs Merquise. 

The machine would have no trouble withstanding a standard attack. Zechs seriously doubted anything short of a Gundam could defeat his Tallgeese. It would take a strong pilot to handle such a beast. Otto seemed to think that Zechs himself was the only pilot capable of such a feat. Zechs, on the other hand, had doubts. That very idea sent a jolt of frightful excitement through the young man. He was not an arrogant man by nature, but he was confident in his abilities as a pilot. There was not a mobile suit or fighter craft in use that he had not mastered, but now he was faced with the challenge of taming Tallgeese. That suit, so much like the Gundams themselves, was deadly, not only for its enemy but also for its pilot. Tallgeese could very well kill him…or it could set him free. There was only one way to find out.

"Noin," Zechs called to his comrade, all but forgotten as such thoughts raced through his mind, "Have the mobile suit troops ready to leave at once. It's time." 

Noin turned to him a bit shocked. "Cinq Kingdom?"

Zechs met her gaze, his posture and tone emphasizing his determination. "I'm taking it back. Any objections?"

"No Sir!"

Satisfied, Zechs returned his attention to his new weapon. "I'm taking the Tallgeese."

"Without so much as a test flight? That's too dangerous!"

"I'll take my chances. I can't stop now, Noin. Not when we are so close to Cinq." After a moment of silence, Noin nodded. Zechs let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. He half expected her to protest his decision and was relieved that she seemed to understand. Then again, Noin always seemed to understand. "Don't worry, Noin. I won't do anything _too_ reckless."

"Of course you won't," Noin smirked. Just behind the sarcasm, however, lay the merest hint of anxiety. Zechs couldn't help but be anxious himself, but unlike Noin, he reveled in the novelty of uncertainty. For the first time in a long while, he felt challenged. With his family avenged and his country on the verge of freedom, the challenge of taming Tallgeese seemed to be all that the young pilot had to spur himself on, the only reason to keep fighting. Taming Tallgeese and dueling the Gundams. There was honor in that. Honor he didn't find in killing his father's murderer. 

Zechs absently rubbed the palm of one gloved hand with the thumb of the other as he plotted his next move. The lieutenant turned to speak but stopped when he caught a glimpse of his companion's concerned expression. She was looking at his hands when he turned and this prompted Zechs to do the same. Finally noticing what he was doing, he dropped his hands, fisting them at his sides and said, "As soon as the relief troops arrive to take over here, we will move out."

Noin schooled her expression and executed a crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"  

Zechs turned and left her to her own thoughts, unwilling to share anymore of his own. He needed time to prepare, to will himself the courage to accept his responsibilities as pilot of Tallgeese. He needed time to quell the uneasy feeling rising inside of him now that he was so close to Cinq. Thirteen years. That was how long it had been since his world was rent asunder by the Alliance. Thirteen years since he witnessed his father's execution and his mother's sacrifice. Thirteen years of blood and pain with only the occasional reprieve from nightmares and loneliness. He left that country a broken, angry boy. He returned an empty, blood-tainted soldier. He had no hope of redeeming himself enough to carry on his father's work. In truth, he could not bring himself to believe in his father's teachings anymore than he could bring himself to believe in the childhood myths he had once loved. He was too cold, too callused to bring the ideals of pacifism back to life. No, he would not take the place of Stefan Peacecraft, but he would pave the way for the one more worthy and pure. Cinq would soon be resurrected and lead the way, not through a king, but through its queen. 

             Within two hours of the arrival of Tallgeese, Zechs and a division of mobile suits led by Noin, were in the air en route to the Cinq border. Three mobile suit carriers escorted by seven standard fighter planes crossed into Alliance airspace thirty minutes after take off. As expected, the isolated Alliance base had been put on full alert as soon as the communications blackout occurred. The battle for Cinq would be neither easy nor quick, but it would succeed. Zechs was determined to see his homeland breath free air once more. But not at the expense of civilians. His last order before launching Tallgeese was to remind his troops to attack only the military targets and avoid any attack upon the city itself. His tone of voice was such that every pilot in the unit was certain of the underlying threat to their physical well being should they make mistakes and cause damage to the city.

"All suits are away." Noin's voice crackled over the intership communications unit. "I'll back you up. Concentrate on your mission, Lieutenant Zechs and leave the rest to me."

"I'm completely focused."

"I've sent the suits to key points and we will divert the ground forces, but a few land-to-air missiles are bound to get past us."

"If Otto's assessment of this suit's speed is correct, I should be able to outrun them."

"Good luck."

A few moments later, all mobile suits were airborne, racing towards the target. As Noin and her men dodged a barrage from the Alliance stronghold, drawing fire away from their commanding officer, Tallgeese was hurled from the carrier. Zechs steeled himself for the expected jerk once the suit left the larger craft, but was unprepared for the bone-jarring jolt as he felt the full weight of the mobile suite. Zechs realized why the vernier rockets were so vital to the suit's operation. It would be all but impossible to maneuver such a massive machine without the additional lift of the rockets. Still, Zechs believed he could handle it. There was, after all, no suit in existence that he had not mastered. 

It took only five minutes for the young pilot to realize he was way over his head. He heard Noin's demands to the Alliance commander in charge of the enclave, but rather than surrendering peacefully, the base revealed a dozen laser canons and fired. The OZ troops scrambled to avoid the blasts while Zechs struggled to bring his suit under control. A struggle he was losing. His frustration began to take over. On one hand, he was beginning to realize that he was completely unprepared for the realities of piloting Tallgeese and that he should turn back. On the other, his home was right in front of him, waiting for his return. After thirteen years, he was within sight of the land he had been born to lead. His feet ached to walk on his native soil, his eyes instinctively turned towards the port city in which he had been born. 

Zechs was wrenched from his thoughts as one of the laser blasts cut right past him. He was barely able to avoid an attack which should have been nothing to him. He felt like a first year again. An incompetent first year at that. All he had to do was increase the speed and he was certain to gain control, but the speed was overwhelming as it was, could his body handle the acceleration? Damn it! Why was he hesitating? Why, with his home right in front of him, why couldn't he do what was needed for victory?

             "Damn!" Noin's voice blared over the commlink, "They're bringing out more laser cannons! Everyone fall back!"

             "Noin!" Zechs broke in, "Order a retreat."

"I'm sorry, sir. I had no idea that they had so many weapons at this base, but, we can handle this!"

"No. We'll have to retreat for now and reorganize our tactics. Go back to where you landed the cargo planes."

"Yes, sir!"

When he issued the order, Zechs had every intention of following, but his eyes were locked on the view of Cinq. Suddenly, he was filled with disgust. He hated himself for his cowardice. All that time, all the bloodshed and destruction, he justified all of that for the moment when he could return home. He was in that moment, but, to his horror, he found himself to afraid to act. He was certain Tallgeese could handle the Alliance outpost without support. The machine was designed to withstand such barrages. The problem was not with the suit, but with its pilot. More specifically with its pilot's inferiority. 

Was that it? Was that all he was capable of? The great Lightning Count, the best pilot in OZ, was no more than a weak-willed coward, unable to fully accept the chance Tallgeese offered. He angrily sped the suit up again, cursing himself and his hesitation. He was so close. His homeland was right in front of him. Right the hell in front of him! He couldn't back down now. If he did, then his life had been wasted. All the death and destruction, all the pain he caused, his efforts to turn himself into an emotionless killer, it would all be for nothing. The image of his father's broken body filled his mind accompanied by the fear. The terror of a five-year-old child, raised in love and kindness, finally seeing the realities of the cruel, cold world beyond the walls of his golden castle. Milliardo Peacecraft died that day and now was his chance to avenge the slaughter. 

But he couldn't.

"Why? Why am I so afraid?"  

His body was beginning to feel the effects of the suit's incredible speed. Zechs felt his limbs begin to grow numb and heavy with the strain of controlling Tallgeese. Control might not be the right word. He was barely holding his own against the behemoth. He wasn't fighting the Alliance, he was fighting Tallgeese. Struggling for domination and, at the moment, losing. It was resisting him, denying him the ability to tap into its full strength. Zechs grunted in pain as he pressed the suit forward, questions screaming in his brain.

Why was Tallgeese turning on him? Was he unworthy of being its pilot? Were his objectives impure? Then, in one instant of clarity, Zechs understood. He knew his mistake, he knew why Tallgeese was rejecting him. Just as Tallgeese began its rapid decent, plummeting Zechs into darkness and death, he suddenly understood everything…

========================

Otto struggled with the last few brass buttons on his heavy wool shell coat. Fumbling for his cap, the lieutenant stood and walked cautiously towards the infirmary exit. His legs were still unsteady and weak, but Otto was determined to join his comrades on the battle field. He had overheard a hazy report that Lieutenant Zechs' attempt to liberate the country of Cinq had failed, but he had trouble believing it. Zechs Merquise simply did not fail. Their information was obviously sketchy and Otto was determined to find out the truth and resume his duties. 

His escape from the infirmary was a close call, but once at a safe distance from the persistently concerned medical staff, Otto easily made his way to the motor pool where he 'borrowed' a jeep. He felt every bump in the road as he drove out to his squad's camp on the edge of the Cinq border. Every hole in the road jarred the injured man to his bones, but he grit his teeth and drove faster. He had been hurt far worse than this in the two decades since he joined the military. Of course, he hadn't joined by choice. What eight year old has the capacity to choose a life of constant battle? But he had been good at it. Even in those early days, as part of the Alliance military machine, he had taken pride in his abilities. He had been trained not to consider the consequences, simply to follow orders and fight well. He did both with exceeding expertise. That is until Cinq. 

The massacre in which he had been forced to participate still haunted his dreams. Otto was sure he would always carry that guilt and accepted this as his punishment for his crimes. That day, that so called battle, changed him forever. Before, he could easily shut out the wanton destruction, the bloodshed, the wholesale slaughter. How? He was too busy to take notice during the battle and was on the move by the time it was over. He never had to stay behind and see what he and his comrades had done. He never had to see the faces of innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, never had to bury the children who had been killed by stray bullets. At Cinq, though, he saw it all. 

It wasn't a battle, even his commanding officers hadn't tried to convince them of that. It was a mass execution. They all knew that. The rest of his squad carried out their orders with deadly precision. Business as usual, but Otto couldn't bring himself to perform his duty with the same casual obedience. He had tried at first. It was his gun that took the life of that elderly gardener and his young protégée. The silly old man had taken up a shovel in a vain attempt to protect the boy, but all that did was make his ultimate death more painful. Otto's first shot, intended for the old man's left eye thereby providing an instant death, instead caught the old man in the shoulder. There was a struggle between the three, but despite being outnumbered, Otto easily overpowered them both. They died by his pistol, by his hand, but they had not gone quietly or easily. For the first time in his life, Otto understood the consequences of his actions.

He had bolted away then, running as fast as he was able, running from the truth. He collapsed on the edge of the hedge maze, near a group of pristinely white statues, standing mute over the carnage. He slumped against one of the sculptures, breathing heavily, the screams and gunfire echoing across the manicured lawn. Smoke bellowed from on end of the mansion, weighing down the air with the stench of blood and burning flesh. Otto gave himself over to a wave of disgust and doubled over, vomiting. He wretched violently, his body trying to physically force out the evil Otto felt inside himself. When the waves of nausea passed, he stood straight only to find himself being watched by two sets of wide eyes. A little boy, a baby girl. 

The knowledge that children were in the castle almost sent the young soldier reeling to his knees again, but his comrade's shout roused him enough to fight back the sickness. Otto let that little boy and the baby escape that day. Perhaps he was a monster, but he would not become a monster capable of slaying children. Those two sets of eyes haunted him for years afterwards. Even after he left the Alliance and joined OZ, long after he found purpose for his life again, his dreams were troubled by those two sets of frightened, accusing eyes. He would never forget those eyes.

As Lieutenant Otto Weir arrived, he heard the truth about the unsuccessful attempt to liberate Cinq. Their preliminary reports had been faulty and the division met with more resistance than expected. Worse still, Lieutenant Merquise had evidently failed to master the Tallgeese as quickly as he had hoped and instead sustained serious injuries. It was this last bit of information that concerned Otto the most. He had hoped to have a longer discussion with the lieutenant about Tallgeese and the suits unusual abilities. Evidently Lieutenant Zechs found out the true nature of Tallgeese the hard way. 

The older officer made his way to the medical tent to ask after the lieutenant's condition. Just before he announced himself and entered the tent, Otto heard voices and stopped. Lieutenant Noin was speaking to Lieutenant Zechs and Otto was not inclined to interrupt them. The two had precious little private time together as it was and he did not wish to intrude upon  such a moment. There were all sorts of rumors about the two officers, ranging from the plausible to the absurd, but Otto didn't pay much heed to such things. His opinion of their relationship was based upon his own observations. It was obvious, to him anyway, that the two had a great deal of admiration and respect for each other that reached far beyond their ranks and positions. There was a real connection there, something perhaps indefinable yet tangible. In a world of constant conflict and strife, connecting with another human being was a rare and valuable thing. Otto saw it as one of his unofficial duties to protect that connection and the two who shared it. 

             He stayed just outside the tent flap, waiting for the chance to enter. It wasn't his intention to eavesdrop, but Otto found himself latching on to the voices drifting from the tent. Through the thin space between the flaps, he caught the occasional glance at the two higher-ranking officers. He was not surprised to see that Lieutenant Zechs was wearing his mask, despite the serious injuries he had sustained.

"Surprise I came back alive, Noin?" It was obviously meant to be a flippant remark, but did not produce the desired effect. Otto glanced at the young woman hovering over the hospital bed and noted a worried scowl. Noin leaned forward, gently resting her clenched fists on the edge of his hospital bed. 

"Zechs, what happened?"

Lieutenant Merquise sighed, "I underestimated Tallgeese, but I understand now. That machine was designed without any consideration for human limitations. It's an ambitious design, with its own logic towards warfare."

"Ignoring human limitations?"

"It's possible to defeat any kind of enemy in any possible combat scenario. That was my analysis. Even I was scared. As I tried to increase its performance, I wound up pushing myself to the edge of death. I kept asking myself, 'Is this really all you can do?'"

There was a long pause as both officers—as well as the one outside—considered the implications. 

"Tallgeese isn't intended for ordinary combat. It's a 'dueling' suit. Unless you're ready to die, you can't handle the machine effectively. Tallgeese is for suicide missions. It's only weakness is the pilot. I understand now."

"You're saying you think you failed because your will to live is _too strong_?" Lieutenant Noin's expression was as incredulous as her tone of voice. Lieutenant Zechs, on the other hand, replied quite calmly. 

"Yes."

Lieutenant Noin remained silent. Otto felt a stab of sympathy for her. She was an excellent pilot in her own right, but she was also one of those rare officers who actually valued life over victory and such a person could never fully understand a suit such as Tallgeese. Otto looked away with a frown. Yes, he could finally see what eluded him when he made his own test flight. Tallgeese was meant for suicide missions. It's full potential lie in the pilot's willingness to risk anything for victory, even death. Tallgeese was just like the Gundams. That explained everything. The Gundams continued to win because they were always ready to die. They had been searching for a battle worthy of their own deaths.

"I failed because I was unable to commit to that idea." Zechs paused, his breathing becoming labored momentarily. He breathed into the oxygen mask a few times before continuing. "I was overwhelmed by fear… and revealed myself as a coward. Now that I know my mistake, I can correct it and I will be able to overcome my own limitations. I have to get back to Cinq Kingdom."

"You can't go back! It's a miracle that you came back alive in the first place! I'll go to the Cinq Kingdom. You stay here!

"I can't stand being this close to Cinq and not doing anything. I wanted it to be over, Noin, that's why I pushed for this mission. It was too soon, I realize that now, but once I liberate Cinq, I know the nightmare I've been living will finally be over."

"I know. I understand." Noin sighed sadly. Otto thought it an oddly unsettling sound coming from someone like Lieutenant Noin. When she spoke again, he noticed her voice held a touch of defeat, also unusual for the young woman. "I should have tried to stop you."

"You did."

"Not hard enough. I was anxious, too. I want this to be over as well. We have plenty of time to regroup. The outpost has no hope of reinforcements. If we wait them out a few days, their supplies will begin to run low and we can…whoa, what the hell are you doing?"

"Getting up so we can go back. 

"Oh no you don't.

"Oh yes I wi—ahhg."

"Damn it. You are the most stubborn…," Noin's voice drifted out as she helped ease her friend back into the safety of his hospital bed. "Zechs, I know how difficult it is for you to stay here with your homeland so close, but you have got to get some rest. We will liberate your country, but not until you are well."

"But, I was so damned close!" Zechs shouted. Otto had never heard such forceful desperation in his commander's voice. Otto gasped softly as he recalled something Lieutenant Noin said. _His country_. Zechs Merquise was from Cinq. This mission was not simply about learning to use Tallgeese, it was about using Tallgeese to liberate his homeland. The man peered in again, watching as Lieutenant Noin all but forced Lieutenant Zechs to lie back. She loomed over him, adopting that motherly attitude her men knew not to argue with, and insisted her comrade stay put.

"I understand what the Cinq Kingdom means to you. It means as much to me and I want to see it free of Alliance scum as much as you do. God knows how much we both want to restore your family to the throne, but at this moment, you have to listen to me. You are not going to do Cinq any good if you die in that damned suit. Long-lost prince or not, you aren't going anywhere tonight, so just lay back and _rest_.

"We will depart tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, sir," she said with a crisp salute and a breath of relief. 

Otto stood outside the tent, dumbfounded. Zechs Merquise, the Lightning Count, was the heir to the throne of Cinq? How could that be? It was widely reported that the entire royal family had been annihilated, so how…? The image of a tow-headed six year old and honey-haired toddler sprang into his mind. Those children. Otto's look of shock softened into one of determination as he started off towards the landing strip. Thirteen years ago he allowed two children to escape a holocaust and in doing so he had unwittingly saved the last surviving members of Cinq's royal family. It was all he could do then, but now, after all this time, Otto had the opportunity to atone for his sins. He could never hope to make up for the slaughter he participated in, but he could do this one thing. He could ensure that Zechs Merquise took his rightful place as the king of Cinq.  

=======================

             The Commander frowned as he watched the attacking force slink back the way they came. They obviously had been unprepared for the extra weapons the outpost possessed and it showed. Where the hell did they get their information anyway? Sloppy. It was too damned sloppy all way round. Rushed, unorganized and a major failure. The Commander was pitifully disappointed. Lucretzia Noin knew better than to fly off half cocked. She was better than that. He trained her didn't he? Whatever possessed that girl to jump into a situation without the right information? 

             He let out a sound, half amused and half angry. He had a good idea who was really responsible for the fiasco. Zechs Merquise was not known for his patience. And Lucretzia Noin was _well_ known for her loyalty to her former classmate. A tender heart and her fierce loyalty to her friends—hell, her desire to _have_ friends—made her completely unsuited for the life she was living. Others would disagree with him of course, but he knew better. He spent twenty years playing this game, manipulating the players behind the scenes, all for one purpose and he was on the verge of seeing that purpose fulfilled. 

             He just hoped there weren't too many Lucretzia Noin's in the world to muddle things up.

========================

"I had another dream."

"Same one?" Noin asked, leaning forward on the edge of the cot her friend occupied. She had been watching over him, making absolutely certain he didn't try to do something stupid.

"Yes," Zechs confirmed,  "The same. Always the same."

Noin nodded, unsure as to whether she should press him for details. It had taken him months to admit he was having nightmares at all. She suspected the only reason Zechs told her at all was because she woke him from one of those awful dreams, mid terror, one night shortly after the incident with O'neguil. That was how she thought of O'neguil's death, the _incident_. She could not quite bring herself to accept what it truly was. Murder. 

Noin knew, if not for a fact at least through the instincts born of long association, that the dream had increased in frequency since the incident and that Zechs' stress level was beginning to push limits. She glanced at her friend's hands as he made fists in the blanket. His gloves lay discarded on a nearby table with the rest of his clothing and this afforded Noin the very rare opportunity to see the man's hands. He inherited the long fingers and graceful shape from his mother, but where Mrs. Katrina's hands were flawlessly smooth and silken to the touch, Zechs' hands were chapped and red, blistered in a few spots. It might be easy for someone else to dismiss the condition of his hands, attribute the damage to too much manual labor or something, but Noin knew better. She knew he washed his hands almost constantly now and that left his hands raw and rough. She also knew the cause of such behavior and thought perhaps it was time to talk to him about it. 

"Tell me about the dream."

There was a long silence. She hadn't really thought he would answer, just that she should at least try. After a few moments, Noin felt that Zechs had either chosen not to respond, or perhaps allowed the drugs in his system to lull him to sleep, but eventually, he did respond. 

"I walk towards him, draw my pistol and shoot him. He falls and…"

Zechs began to rub his fingers together. That was the first sign. 

"And I look down to see blood on my hands.  I turn to leave…only to be stopped…"

The young officer unclenched his hands and began rubbing his palm. Sign two. Noin suddenly regretted having brought the matter up. "Zechs, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

But Zechs, surprisingly, would not be deterred now that the door had been opened. "I turn…only to be stopped by my father. He looks just as he did that day…after O'neguil murdered him. I can taste his blood in my mouth and I look down. I'm wearing a white suit, covered in his blood…that's when I realize it isn't the general's blood on my hands…its…"

"…your father's blood." He was wringing his hands now, the last sign before he started to look for a faucet. Noin put her hands over his, staying the movement. "Zechs, don't do this to yourself."

Noin was interrupted  by a rushing noise followed by a flurry activity outside the med tent. She turned to the communication relay and called the night watch commander.

"What was that?!…oh, hell…" Turning to Zechs she said bluntly, "Otto just took Tallgeese."

"What?!  He struggled to sit up and this time Noin didn't try to stop him. Instead she eased his arm around her shoulders to help steady him as he activated the commlink to Tallgeese. 

"Otto, what are you doing?! Come back here now!"

"Tallgeese is strong enough to liberate Cinq…I should know…"

"Stop and return at once before you get yourself killed."

"I would be honored to sacrifice my life for you, Lieutenant. Please allow me to assist you in liberating your country. I want to do this for you, sir, not OZ!"

"Otto…"

"I will liberate your country so that you may rule as you were intended."

The communications link shut off abruptly. Zechs slammed his fist into the offending machine as though abusing it would stop the inevitable. "Noin, get a helicopter ready. We have to stop him."

Noin called in the order and helped Zechs back to the cot. She retrieved his clothes and helped him dress as quickly as possible. There was no way she could convince him to stay now, so she accompanied him to the waiting helo. They were airborne and in hot pursuit in moments, but it was useless. By the time they caught up with Otto, it would all be over.

"Patch me in to Tallgeese! Now!"

The co-pilot handed headsets back to the lieutenants and set up the link. 

"Otto! Stop this nonsense and return at once!"

"Don't interfere with me... I won't last too long, anyway."

"Hurry!" Zechs growled to the pilot before doubling over in pain.

"Yes, sir!

Zechs, at Noin's insistence, leaned back against the seat, murmuring "If I had been able to handle Tallgeese, this wouldn't have happened."

"Long live King Zechs!"

It was the last transmission from Tallgeese before the mobile suit slammed into the fortress below. The remaining suits sped past the slower helicopter and proceeded to secure the base. By the time the helicopter landed, it was all over. Zechs, rejecting Noin's assistance this time, limped over to the Tallgeese just as Otto's body was lowered from the cockpit. He looked relatively undamaged and, had it not been for the previous injuries, the older man might have survived. 

With some difficulty, Zechs knelt by the body, looking at the face of the man who saved him twice. Otto would never know that he had restored, not only Cinq, but also the world's chance at peace. In saving Milliardo and Relena Peacecraft, Otto Weir had saved the future. Zechs was the sword to sweep the path clean, Relena the leader to guide the survivors to the ideal their father died for. 

He stood and ordered a jeep and driver just as Noin walked up.

"You going where I think you're going?"

He didn't answer, but that was answer enough. She commandeered an Alliance motorcycle and followed. As they flew down the ancient road, Noin was overcome with memories. There was a time when she knew every curve and bump in that road. Another mile down and they would reach the entry drive leading towards the Peacecraft mansion. Five more miles and they would reach the orphanage. Just off that side was another road that led to the school, then the cathedral in which Zechs' parents had been married, then the main road into the city. Thirteen years and she still remembered it all.    
             Soon they were standing outside the once grand structure, the home of the Peacecraft family for six hundred years. The once manicured lawns were unkempt and choked with weeds, the façade was crumbling and still bore signs of the fire that almost destroyed it. Still, it was there and if one looked hard enough, its beauty and grandeur could still be seen. Zechs took a step forward, then halted.

 "Zechs…?" Noin stepped up behind him and whispered, "Do you want me to go with you?"

He seemed to consider that for a moment, never taking his eyes off the abandoned mansion, but in the end he shook his head and continued on. Noin's first instinct was to follow him anyway, but decided against it. Unlike Zechs, Noin's memories of this building were happy and she had no desire to ruin them with a vision of destruction. She turned away and walked slowly back to her motorcycle. She sat there for a long time, waiting in much the same way she had waited while Zechs took his revenge on General O'neguil. There was nothing else for her to do then, but this time was different. This was her home, too. She had a place to revisit, a past to mourn. Starting up her bike, she issued a few curt orders to her men and sped off down the road. 

========================

He still couldn't understand why he was there. It wasn't as though she was unique, there _were_ others. Others more valuable than her. She was rendered useless the moment she was taken in by civilians. For some reason he just couldn't let it go, so he followed her. Perhaps it was because she had grown up under such chaotic circumstances. The others were controlled, conditioned, trained from the moment of consciousness. She grew up wild, subject to vastly different circumstances and uncontrollable environments…and in the end, she was the only one who truly reminded him of the past. They were so much alike, that young girl and the woman he lost. The physical resemblance was expected, of course, but he had not imagined the girl's personality being the same as well. 

The Commander decided to leave the analyzing to the psychiatrists. Whatever the reason, he was there. He waited on that ridge all evening, expecting the Specials to return and destroy the outpost once and for all. He wasn't disappointed, but things did not go exactly as planned. Instead of the entire division, only the Tallgeese showed up. It moved in the same hesitant, beleaguered manner as earlier, but at the last moment, it accelerated sharply. The sudden burst of speed straightened the suit's course and, just before it plowed into the outpost, the Commander glimpsed the true potential of the ageing suit. It was a beautiful sight, graceful and fierce. In that last moment, the Commander could see the intent of the Tallgeese's original designers. The doctor's had designed a suit capable of reflecting the honor and bravery of its pilot.

In this case, the pilot died. A few moments after the Tallgeese destroyed the Alliance headquarters, the rest of the division showed up. There was little left to do other than round up the survivors and secure the area. He trained his binoculars to the helicopter that landed last and noted both Lucretzia Noin and Zechs Merquise emerge from the craft. Merquise's posture suggested serious injuries, which did not surprise the Commander. Young Zechs obviously flew the Tallgeese during the aborted mission earlier and found that he could not handle the suit. Lucretzia, of course, was not about to allow her comrade to fly off alone in his condition. 

It did not take their troops long to secure the area. Soon, Merquise and Noin were on their way south, one chauffeured by a young enlisted man, the other speeding ahead on a motorcycle. He had a good idea where they were both headed and decided to follow. Again, he didn't know what possessed him, but he was there already and decided to go with it. The group stopped at the royal residence, but only one went in. Shortly after, Noin took off on her motorcycle and headed further south. Again, the Commander followed.

========================

It was an odd experience, begging a portrait for forgiveness, but then the whole experience was odd. Zechs had expected to be overwhelmed by emotion, but he felt strangely numb. He walked aimlessly through the halls, further and further from the portrait of his father, and tried to sort out what he was feeling. Stepping into that library again…he expected to be driven to his knees by the memory of his father's execution, but there was nothing. Walking past the balcony from which his mother fell…still nothing. The dusty marble halls where he played as an indulged child, Rena's nursery, his mother's chamber. The further he walked, the less he felt. The marble and stone surrounding him seemed to sap his warmth and emotion, the cold encroaching on his soul with icy fingers, squeezing out the last bit of feeling. 

At length, he found himself in Damon Pallidino's office. Surprisingly, it was relatively in tact. There were signs of intruders. The computer was gone, the drawers empty, the filing cabinets…

The filing cabinet. 

Zechs turned towards the thick tapestry hanging behind Damon's desk and gave it a tug. It pulled loose at one corner and fell off to the side, revealing what looked like a perfectly blank wall. Nothing special unless you knew what you were looking at and Zechs certainly did. Playing in the secret passages of the mansion had been one of his favorite past times. Getting caught at it was one of the surest ways of getting grounded. Zechs reached out and felt for the release mechanism. With a click and a creak of neglected springs, the panel swung open. 

There was a rush of stale air smelling of mold and decay. Zechs cleared his throat to force back a grimace of disgust as he stepped through the old, familiar passage door. Just inside was a steel filing cabinet. Damon Pallidino was not a big believer in computer security, with good reason, and kept his most important files safely locked up in that filing cabinet. 

Zechs tried one of the drawers, but it didn't budge. He reached into his pockets searching for something to use to jimmy the lock, but his pockets were empty. As a child, Milliardo Peacecraft always had full pockets. String, pen knives, chewed gum wrapped in paper for a later, the remnants of a candy bar, flashlight, lucky charm, all the things important to the life of a budding explorer. The grown and mature Zechs Merquise couldn't be bother with such clutter.

Stepping back into the office, he rifled Captain Damon's desk until he found a letter opener. The blade was a little too flexible, but with a little work, Zechs was able to finesse the lock and the drawer slid open. He absently thumbed through the contents, not really looking for anything in particular as he doubted anything in the file cabinet held any importance so many years later. In the back of the drawer he discovered a small bottle of brandy. Checking the date, Zech nodded in approval and slipped the thin bottle into his coat. Twenty years in storage. That stuff was bound to be smooth as silk. 

After a minute of browsing through the papers lining the drawer, his fingers brushed upon a file marked LP with a smiley face drawn next to it. Remembering the captain's sense of humor, Zechs was curious to see the contents. Pulling it out, he leafed through the pages as a light smile played at his mouth. "LP" evidently referred to Noin, or as Zechs had called her then, the Lilac Princess. There were crayon drawings signed "Luie" in a childish hand, a few stray papers which Zechs took to be the initial reports on her origins, a picture of the girl, and handwritten notes probably made by Captain Damon. He perused the notes, frowning now and then in understanding as he came across such references as, "memory loss," "possibly abandoned," and the like. Lucretzia Noin's past summed up with a few stray notations in a file folder. One of many children made homeless and orphaned by the Alliance. 

Shaking his head, Zechs closed the file and shoved it back in the drawer without regard to where he placed it, then turned to walk through the dark passageway. He had been so caught up in his own emotions, he forgot her. He lost his family that horrible day, but so had she. Her life had been fraught with tragedy from day one and her pain was no less important than his own. Yes, Noin had suffered right along with him, but for some reason, where he found hate and vengeance his saviors, Noin had maintained her compassion and capacity for love. The years of conflict had hardened her, to be sure, but it had not torn her soul out. She would never let such a thing happen. Way too stubborn that one.

He on the other hand, offered up his soul with little resistance, willing to damn himself to hell on the mere chance that he could avenge the wrongs committed in the name of the Alliance. He had that revenge and believed it would be enough. It never occurred to him what he should do after his revenge was complete. He felt empty now, a hollow shell that existed out of habit with no soul to guide it. He had not purpose any more. His family's murderer was dead, his country was free, his sister would soon assume their father's place on the throne and fulfill his ideals. What was left for Zechs Merquise?

=========================

She spent at least a half hour simply standing there staring. The house was gone. Burnt to the ground, with only a stone foundation and a few stray beams littering the ground. It hadn't even occurred to her, not for an instant, that the house would not be there when she arrived. It was the palace she had been worried about, the symbol of the Peacecraft line. Seeing it standing and relatively untouched, Noin had been utterly relieved. She never thought that her own home would be the one in ruins. 

Noin backed up, thinking she should just get on her bike and go back, leave all this behind, but instead her feet carried her around the scorched remains of the orphanage and around to the garden. It was overgrown, naturally. Neglected for years, all but reclaimed by the forest next to it, but there were traces of it's old beauty still remaining. The rose bushes managed to creep up along the fence and survive the encroachment of weeds. The area that had once sported a vegetable garden still smelled of green onions and Noin saw the occasional tomato stalk. She smiled sadly, recalling the countless hours she spent in this place, talking to the flowers, helping Marguerite tend to the vegetables. She had been so happy when she could finally water those flowers herself, with no help. As she remembered this, Noin caught sight of a glint of metal peeking out beneath the wild bushes. 

At first glance, it was simply a hunk of rusted metal hidden among the tangle of weeds. Upon closer inspection, Noin found this bit of decaying tin bore traces of paint, a name, carefully painted in a childish had. Luie. The young woman traced the faded letters with her fingertips. It was her watering can, the present Zechs had made for her. She lost it the same day she received it. In those first few terrifying moments after she spotted the planes, Luie had dropped the can and run for Marguerite. There the can stayed for over a decade.

             The tears came unbidden, as always, but Noin was not able to force them back. She sobbed openly for a few moments, feeling certain she was alone in this place and safe from prying eyes. She spent the past few months concentrating on Zechs. His goals, his needs, his healing. But standing among the ruins of her childhood, her own pain pressed forward and blocked out all else. It wasn't fair, damn it! Why had she spent so many years in the military, biding her time, waiting to free the world? Why? So that she could finally go home. Well, she was home. Only home wasn't there. 

             With a humiliated grunt, Noin forced herself to calm down. She pushed the anger away, forced the tears to dry. This wasn't who she was. She was stronger than this. It was just a house, after all. It was the people who mattered. Those she lost, she mourned for long ago. Those who survived were still part of her life. The past couldn't be changed and the future held promise. No tears. Not anymore. 

             Determination replaced grief and Noin turned to leave. She halted with a surprised gasp as she spotted a figure at the far end of the garden, just on the edge of the woods. The presence of another person in this secluded area was shocking enough, but he was staring right at her. Noin's hand moved to the hilt of her pistol and she held the man's gaze. Violet eyes stared back at her, intense and searching. She was about to demand the man's name when a familiar dizziness washed over her. Violet eyes. The man's face shifted in her vision, now looking back at her with something akin to sadness. Then the voices started. __

_             "Arrivederci, amor mio."_

             "Arrivederci, Lucretzia."

             The dizziness became a painful burst of light and then Lucretzia Noin passed out. 

===========================

Zechs turned a corner in the secret passageway and found himself in total darkness. Turning back around he retraced his steps back towards Captain Damon's office. A few steps back the way he came, Zechs kicked something. Squatting, he felt around for the object until his hands brushed against something smooth. He picked it up and continued back to the passage entrance and stepped through. Zechs sealed the passage and set the object on Damon's desk. It was a flat box, wooden with what looked to be brass fixtures, but it was difficult to tell with the amount of tarnish dulling the metal. Zechs flipped the lid open and gasped softly at the contents.

Chess pieces.

He stared for a long time, mute and frozen in shock as the memory replayed in his mind. This was the last birthday present he received from his father. They were to have had a game when …when…

Zechs slammed the lid shut, grinding his teeth. He had still been clutching that chess set when Damon rescued him from certain death. He had been clutching it when O'Neguil put that gun to his father's head and pulled the trigger. Zechs brushed the layer of dust from the lid and noted several dark spots across one end. Blood stains. His father's blood on the box, in his hair, in his mouth. There were nights when he still awoke with that putrid taste in his mouth. Nights when sleep was impossible and forgetting unimaginable. 

But there were also nights when he was lulled back to sleep by the presence of a friend. Sometimes she sang that song of hers, lilting and full of the memory of a mother's love. Other times, particularly when he was younger, it was the steady sound of her breathing. The regular pattern was comforting. One breath in, heartbeat. One breath out, heartbeat.  Continuous, dependable, comforting. As long as he could hear her breathing, he knew he could survive the night. 

Zechs tucked the small chess set under his arm and left the building. His injuries still pained him a great deal, but he did manage to make back to the jeep without having to resort to calling for help. Once settled, he asked after Lieutenant Noin and was told she went further down the road. Zechs nodded and ordered the driver to follow.

===========================

She awoke with a jolt, scrambling to her feet and immediately taking up a defensive posture as her mind cleared. It had been a long time since she had one of her 'spells' and it was always disconcerting, but this time there was something else. Something different. She spun to face the spot where the man had been standing. No surprisingly he was gone.

             "Noin?"

             She let out a startled squeak and whirled to find Zechs approaching from the drive way. He stopped at her reaction. 

             "Are you all right?"

             "Uh, yeah," she said, forcing her heart to slow back to normal, "just don't sneak up on me like that."

             She couldn't see his eyebrow raise behind the mask, but she knew it did.

             "Okay. Sorry." He turned and ordered the jeep to return, saying he would ride back with the lieutenant. As the jeep started off Zechs, glanced at the ruins of the orphanage house, then returned his attention to his friend.

             "Are you all right?" he asked again, his voice soft.

             Noin nodded, looking down at the watering can still clutched in her hand. She smiled and held it up. "Remember this."

             "Is that…?"

             "Yep."

             Zechs chuckled and took the rusted can, inspecting his handiwork. Noin joined him, feeling the unsettling emotions fade away once again. The laughter died down and they walked back to Noin's bike.

"I took the liberty of organizing a relief detail before we left, sir. I didn't tell them where, of course, just to be ready to leave on a moment's notice. They are due to arrive in a couple of hours."

Zechs looked at her and smiled, "Good. But Treize won't be pleased that you pulled OZ troops away from their battle posts."

"It's a civilian organization, sir, neutral. I, uh…I called Sister Marguerite.

Zechs said nothing, merely nodded. Noin smiled a little. The fact that he hadn't gotten angry was a good sign. "She's due to arrive with a whole squad of nuns anytime now. I was wondering if you might…

"No."

"But…"

"I thought we settled this, Noin. I am Zechs Merquise. Zechs Merquise has no connection to Cinq other than as one of its liberators. He grew up in Luxembourg under the guardianship of Treize Kushrenada." With that, he walked away, leaving Noin to watch his retreating back. 

"No connection to Cinq, Zechs? Not even one?" She whispered sadly.

===========================

             Lieutenant Une opened a new bottle of wine for her commander, Duke Treize Kushrenada and refilled his goblet. He took the proffered glass with a nod and continued to study the report in his hands. Cinq was liberated, a relief team had been set up and everything was running smoothly. All very nice, but Une was hard pressed to figure out what significance a patch of dirt like Cinq could possibly hold for His Excellency. The country held no strategic importance, nor was it politically viable. Why then had Zechs Merquise—she refused to apply his new rank, lieutenant colonel, until the promotion papers had been signed—why had the young man spent so much effort on gaining control of a country no one wanted? More importantly, why was Romefellar impressed enough to grant him a two rank promotion as a result? She had  accepted long ago that his insolence would be rewarded as long as he brought honor to Romefellar, but what could possibly be gained from this pathetic country? Twenty years ago, perhaps capturing Port City would have been a quite a feat, but the death of it's monarchy  a decade ago left the ruined country powerless. 

             Une eased into a seat, staring out at the landscape below. Cinq, once a great seafaring power, had in recent years, settled into a more agrarian society. There were still fishing villages along the coast, but most of the citizens were farmers as evidenced by the lush green fields below. They were well organized, she would give them that. The plots were well laid out, uniform and properly rotated. She watched the changing landscape through the light scattering of clouds. Their were different crops growing in neighboring plots, common practice for farmers. Rotating the crops helped maintain the soil's chemical balance. From that height, though, the land took on the look of a patchwork quilt. A variety of colors stitched together in random beauty…soft, warm, comforting…

             Her eyelids fluttered. Somewhere, far away, there was music playing…

             "Letitia, where are the blue pieces? I want my quilt to have blue blocks."

_             "Here, Aneke. My, you have a lot of fabric. How big are you planning to make your quilt?"_

_             "Queen size. It's to be for my wedding trunk. As soon as I'm finished with this, I shall begin on my trousseau."_

_             "You're only twelve! Don't you think you're a little young to be collecting your trousseau."_

_             "Mamma says it's important for a lady to have her wedding trunk filled before she is married."_

"Lady?"

             Une turned, blinking in surprise. "Hm? Yes, Mr. Treize?"

             The duke smiled. Une was confused by the expression on the man's face, even more so as he stood and joined her at the window. After a moment studying her face, Treize spoke, "This land is beautiful isn't it?"

             "Yes, it is," Une nodded with a blush. Mr. Treize was giving her the most extraordinary look, one that suggested he knew something she did not. It was vaguely unsettling, but, she had to admit, not unpleasantly so.

             "Have you ever visited Cinq?"

             "No, I never had the privilege," she paused as Treize raised an eyebrow. Why was that surprising? "I'm looking forward to seeing it though. I understand the port city is quite beautiful."

             "Yes," Treize agreed heartily, "yes, it is indeed."

             He rose from his seat and stood looking down at her, smiling that enigmatic smile. "You should go without your glasses more often." Une's hand flew to her face to confirm what he suggested. Treize chuckled and returned to his paperwork. "You shouldn't  hide yourself behind glass, Aneke. It doesn't suit you." 

             The remainder of the trip was silent and they arrived without incident. As they disembarked, His Excellency caught sight of the mobile suit referred to as Tallgeese. Une scowled as she joined the duke in front of mobile suit. His Excellency was obviously impressed with the design and magnitude of the suit. The technical specifications were impressive, Une could admit that, but she could see no great advancements in technology in that suit any more than she believed the Gundams were superior to OZ's arsenal. 

"So that's the Tallgeese... It looks extraordinary, indeed. Now I understand why Zechs is the only one who can pilot that machine."

Back to Zechs Merquise. And since his promotion had been approved by His Excellency during the plane trip, she now had to use the younger man's new designation. "Sir, if I may say, you always make Colonel Merquise out to be exceptional."

"I'm simply treating an outstanding officer accordingly," He said with a mild smile. "Is there a problem with that?"

Une wanted to say yes. She wanted to say that the stuck-up little ass was getting too full of himself and needed to be taught respect and discipline. She wanted to say that. Instead she said, "I'm just concerned that any favoritism will encourage inappropriate behavior."

"Lady, this is not the kind of thing you should worry about. I'd rather you worry about more important issues."

Une had no response for that. Particularly when His Excellency turned to her with a confident smile. 

"Yes, sir."

============================ End Chapter 14 ======================

Thank you for all of you who continued to review and to the new readers who've discovered this fic. You guys are so great!!!!!!!

_Disclaimer:_ Okay, all I asked for my stinking birthday was the copyright to Gundam Wing. Did I get it? NoooOOOoooooo. Stiffed again by the birthday wish fairy! Just like at Christmas! Those stinking elves never listen to me! Oh, well. I did get an industrial size can of Lawyer Repellant! Bwahahahaaa!! Die bloodsuckers!!!!! [evil cackle faded into distance as Dante chases parasites…uh, lawyers… into the night]


	15. Finding a Way

**AN:** First, an important detail to remember when reading the rest of this story. For clarity's sake, I will be using the spelling 'Hiro Yuy' when referring to the slain leader of the colonies. I will use the spelling 'Heero Yuy' when referring to the young Gundam pilot. I don't remember who suggested that, but thanks! It clears things up nicely! 

On a self-serving note, I have a bit of news. If you haven't read my bio page lately, then check it out. NutNatz, a fellow fanfictioneer and all around generous soul, has set up a discussion group for my fics. Yeah, I'd feel incredibly vain except for the fact that it was her idea. I welcome criticism and suggestions! If you would like to join, go to my author's page for the link. Natz has done a fabulous job of setting the list up, so if you like my stories, go join up! She's even working on illustrations for The Healer's Handmaiden. Geez, my ego's getting so big, I can't stand myself…. 

Episode reference: episodes 9 through 20. 

Still Grows the Lilac Part II of **The Lilac Princess** trilogy Chapter 15 Finding a way… 

**_~~~ Former Kingdom of Cinq, Peacecraft estate ~~~_****__**

Six months after Operation Daybreak, the world finally began to settle into a relative sense of calm. Despite the sporadic Gundam sightings, a kind of order had been restored and, although tenuous at best, it was holding. The coup had been swift, catching the World Alliance by surprise and thereby minimizing the amount of damage, but to those most affected, the damage was severe enough. OZ had taken care to target military objectives, but civilian casualties could not be avoided. The Alliance had the pernicious habit of setting up military posts on the edge of large civilian populations and so, despite the careful selection of targets, innocents were hurt and survivors forced to flee.  

             Still, there was none of the mass destruction one would have found twenty years prior, during the Alliance wars, and the number of refugees was relatively low. Relief organizations, led by those with personal knowledge of the needs of refugees, swooped in almost upon the heels of the advancing OZ troops. With the backing of Romefellar's nobles, eager to present themselves as the world's saviors, hasty camps were soon replaced with safe housing and an abundance of necessities. Unlike the mass exodus of the previous conflict, most refugees were able to return home within a few weeks. Many of the shelters stood empty only a month after the coup. One such shelter—a huge stone edifice that once sheltered kings--had been converted to a hospital to tend to the long-term rehabilitation of soldiers and citizens injured in the uprising, as well as a sort of half-way house for those few who had no home to which they could return. 

             Standing in front of the grand old mansion, an observer might only see an abandoned building, a little worse for wear, but sturdy. To walk through the halls, lined with mostly empty cots and shelves of supplies, it would be difficult indeed to see the structure as anything other than a hospital, but, if one were to pause and look closer, to reach out and feel the tapestry wall coverings, to study the ornately painted ceilings, it might be possible to imagine its lost grandeur. With effort and a vivid imagination, one might glimpse the Peacecraft mansion as it appeared when the royal family of Cinq occupied its marbled chambers. 

             Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin could certainly imagine it, though she admitted to having an advantage over the others. She, after all, had spent the better part of her first year in Cinq running through those cool halls with her best friend, the young heir apparent Milliardo Peacecraft. Every corridor held a memory, each secluded corner a childish secret whispered in utmost confidence. There were few who knew that building better than she, well one actually, but he refused to return to the place of his birth. 

             The young woman walked slowly through the second floor of the mansion, only half-cognizant of her path. After almost half and hour of aimless wandering, she arrived at the office reserved for the captain of the Cinq Imperial Guards. Captain Damon's office. It was the one and only room she had avoided since returning to the palace months earlier. At first, she had good excuses. The mansion had to be made fit for living again—plumbing repaired, electricity restored. Then there were the refugees to tend to, the relief organizations to manage, the daily tasks of running a shelter for the displaced citizens of her former home, all of it bringing up memories of her own childhood spent wandering through Europe with her foster family.  The memories were bitter as well as sweet. For every recollection of a happy afternoon exploring the grand halls, there was an equally horrific image of the destruction that followed. Worst of all was the oppressive sadness that seemed to radiate from her very soul every time she recalled those she loved and lost. 

             She had managed to lock the pain away, promising herself to deal with it later. Somehow the door to Captain Damon's office became her physical symbol for that mental door, holding back the sorrow and hurt of a lifetime. Until that moment. There were no more excuses. The refugees were taken care of, the supplies plentiful, the city's reconstruction well underway. It was in the hands of the managers and bureaucrats now and there was no need for military supervision. No need for a stray soldier looking for some occupation to take her mind off the past. 

             The lieutenant entered the office quietly, standing in the doorway for a several minutes before actually entering. She wandered from the door to the desk, across to the small table next to the comfortable armchair she remembered so fondly. Little Luie took many a nap in that chair before her exile to the orphanage. Looking back, she understood the decision to send her away and acknowledged the fact that she would have made the same choice had she been in Captain Damon's position, but adult logic means little to a frightened five year old. Her mind returning again to the day she found out she was to be sent away, Noin silently made her way to the large window overlooking the rear of the mansion. The old hedge maze was visible from her vantage point and she shook her head at its sad state. The maze had definitely seen better days. It was as overgrown as one might expect after more than a decade of abandonment. If one looked closely enough, however, the vague outline could still be detected. The garden in which it sat, too, needed work. In the past few months, her efforts had been directed towards seeing to the needs of the refugees and relief workers as well as tending to her duties as an OZ officer, but things had calmed down significantly and the castle was almost empty. Plenty of time to see about restoring the former glory of the estate. She made a mental note to see to hiring a grounds crew to begin fixing up the place, starting with the hedge maze. 

             "Lucretzia?'

             Noin let out a startled squeal and spun around, clutching her heart as she cursed softly, "Damn, Paolo! Don't sneak up on me like that!" After a moment, Noin's eyes widened and she bit her lip, remembering that the young man in front of her wasn't simply an old friend. He was also a priest. "Uh…sorry, Father."

Paolo's expression morphed into a rather hilarious grimace and Noin couldn't help but giggle. Paolo's eyes widened in mock horror. 

"My former girlfriend insists on calling me Father," Paolo mumbled, "there is a Greek tragedy in there somewhere…"

"I suppose that means you would prefer if I dropped the 'father' bit?"

Paolo smiled broadly. "I think that will prevent any emotional scars, yes."

Noin laughed again as her friend stepped inside. It had been quite a shock to find Paolo among Maguerite's horde of volunteers, but a pleasant one. Though their correspondence was limited, due mostly to her own lack of time, she had kept up her friendship with Paolo. It had weakened over time and distance, but it was still there and still very much treasured. Being with him and Sister Marguerite for the past few months had afforded Noin the chance to reconnect with them both and she found the bonds were as strong as ever. 

Paolo smiled and tilted his head. "I still have to get used to the title. Every time I hear someone say 'Father,' I have the urge to turn around and see to whom they are referring."

"Don't you like being a priest?"

"Yes, of course I do," Paolo said quietly, his face taking on an expression of relaxed contentment. "It wasn't an easy choice to make, nor has it been an easy life, but I know in my heart this is where I should be." He joined her at the window and they both gazed out over the hedge maze and the lawn below. There were a few people milling about, mainly patients from the hospital ward taking a bit of exercise under the watchful eyes of the sister nurses.  There was a moment of companionable silence before Paolo asked, "And you? Are you content being a world wide hero?"

"Don't tease me, Paolo."

"I'm not teasing. These people truly look up to you, Lucretzia." Paolo gestured down to the lawn as he spoke.  "As well they should. You've done nothing less than save the world."

"And destroyed quite a bit of it in the process."

"Sometimes the old must be torn down before the new can be built."

"Hm. Let a guy go to seminary for a couple of years and he turns into a philosopher-priest."

"All the best philosophers were holy men."

"Well, that's debatable, holy man."

They enjoyed a laugh, traded a few jibes and fell silent. It was a cool evening in late autumn, not long before sunset, but early enough that the sky was still wonderfully bright blue. Cinq was a northern country and therefore was apt to suffer dreary, damp days from late summer to the onset of winter, but that day had been unusually cheerful and warm. Noin had tried to take that as a good sign, that perhaps the upcoming operation would be successful and the world would finally see a permanent end to hostilities. She tried to believe this, but deep down her doubts swelled to a new level. 

Noin had become increasingly disillusioned with OZ over the past few weeks and had even begun to harbor a slight sympathy for the Gundams. Not enough to question her present position, at least not quite yet, but enough to exacerbate her growing concerns in another area. More specifically for a fellow soldier. Zechs' behavior over the past few months had become increasingly obsessive. He was searching for something to fill the void left by his successful, yet unsatisfying, bout with revenge. The world had been turned on end. The first flush of victory and success had faded into a foreboding feeling that things would end up worse than before, both generally and personally. The world was in trouble. Zechs was in trouble.

"Are you ready to tell me what is troubling you?"

"Are you asking as a friend or as a priest?"

"I'm afraid I have yet to learn how to separate the two. It's just us, Lucretzia. Now tell me what is wrong."

"It's not me, exactly. It's…it's a friend."

"Ah."

"No, really," Noin giggled, "It is an _actual_ friend not an 'it's really-me-but-I-won't-admit-it-friend.' "

"Very well. What is troubling your friend?"

"The coup, I guess you could say, or rather, the aftermath. My friend is floundering. He spent so much of his life preparing for that one moment and now…I don't know. I'm probably just being a mother hen."

"Good teachers always are," Paolo responded kindly. Turning to peer at Noin's face, he asked, "Would that friend happen to be Zechs Merquise?"

Noin gave him a wry look. "Either you're really, really good at this, or I'm as transparent as glass."

"A little of both," Paolo replied with a grin. "I know you pretty well by now, don't you think? I've learned how to read between the lines with you and, believe me, there is a lot written between those lines when you mention Zechs Merquise." Seeing Noin's blush, Paolo put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Is it about your feelings for the colonel?"

"It's…a lot of things. I…" She turned to face him, searching his eyes for the solution to her dilemma. She found compassion easily enough, but no definitive answer.  "Part of the problem is that I can't tell you everything.  Zechs…has a lot of secrets. Secrets that I've sworn to keep and, although I bear that burden gladly, at the same time I feel as though my hands are tied. I can't help him and it's tearing me up inside."

"That is something I understand all too well," Paolo nodded with a sad smile. "What if I were to guess the nature of those secrets? Would you feel more comfortable talking to me about him then?"

             "As perceptive as you are, Paolo, you've only met him twice. I doubt you could guess the problem."

             "Yes, well, I happen to be a good guesser…let's see…hm, well let us start with the mask, shall we? That is, of course, the most obvious sign of a secret. Most assume he's been disfigured, but I suspect the opposite. More like…he's hiding…? Ah. Close, yes? Then the next question would be why he felt the need to hide. There are too many possibilities to ponder, especially if he is who I believe him to be. I suppose I shouldn't ask how he came up with the pseudonym."

             He gave Noin a pointed look which she returned with a frown. Paolo could be too perceptive for his own good. Noin wavered between jumping at the chance to unburden herself and keeping tight reign on her thoughts. Those secrets, after all, were not hers to reveal. Her loyalty to Zechs prevented the possibility of compromising his trust, even if it meant compromising her ability to find help. 

             "His name _is_ Zechs Merquise," she insisted warily. 

             "But it was once Mil Pallidino."

             Noin felt her cheeks flush, but otherwise kept tight control of her expression. From the tone of Paolo's voice, she could tell that he had no doubts as to the truth of his statement, so she felt no need to be coy. Plus, with or without the priest's collar, she trusted Paolo almost as much as she trusted Zechs himself. Still, it was not her place to lay Zechs' problems out for discussion.

             "He's been known by many names," she said carefully.

             "None of them reveal who he truly is."

             Noin's gaze fell to the floor, studying the intricate pattern of ceramic tiles that had amazingly remained in tact for the past thirteen years.  So much of the building had remained perfectly in tact, while so many of the lives born there had been shattered. No, none of the names Zechs used over the years truly revealed the young man's truth. He was not Colonel Merquise any more than he was Mil Pallidino. Nor could he claim to be Prince Milli any longer. He wasn't merely a man without a country, he was a man without an identity. His inner self had subsisted on the cold nourishment of revenge for half of his life. In losing that tether, he lost himself. 

"Mil is not really your brother, is he," Paolo continued gently. Again, it wasn't a question, leading Noin to wonder how long her dark-haired friend had suspected these things. 

"What makes you say that?"

"Aside from the fact that you two look _nothing_ alike?" Paolo smiled and looked down, his hands clasped in what Noin had affectionately come to think of as his counselor pose. "I began to wonder a few years ago. Mil always seemed a bit more overprotective than most brothers would be. At the time, I dismissed that as resulting from the life you led before Livorno. When you and I were dating, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was competing with someone, but had no idea with whom. Then you 'introduced' us in Luxembourg. It took me a little while, but I realized the Zechs Merquise you were always speaking of was truthfully Mil Pallidino. I remember overhearing you call him 'Zechs' once at school and there was that hair…he's hard to miss. That's when I began to suspect that he wasn't overprotective so much as jealous. He acted more like a boyfriend than a brother, yes?"

"You're right. He's not my brother…" After a moment, she hastily added, "I wouldn't call him a boyfriend either."

             Paolo grinned. "What would you call him?"

             Noin blushed at the knowing look in his eyes and thought for her moment. What was Zechs? Her best friend, her compass in a time of upheaval, her comrade. There were so many words to describe Zechs, none of them seemed to quite hit the mark. "I don't know what to call him anymore Paolo. I just know I need to be by his side for now. He needs me."

             "And you need him."

             Noin nodded silently, her eyes focused on some distant point ahead as her mind wandered. "Long ago, he took my hand and led me out of darkness. I have to help him find his way now…if I didn't, it would be like…like…"

"Like losing yourself?"

Noin didn't respond, merely stared at the floor. They sat in silence for sometime before Noin was drawn out of her reverie by the weight of an arm about her shoulders. She looked up to see Paolo smiling down at her affectionately. He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. 

             "I must say, I am a bit envious. To have such a deep and unwavering bond. I wonder if Mil knows how fortunate he is to have this connection to such a beautiful girl."

             Noin smirked, cocking her head to peek around her thick, dark hair. "I thought priests weren't allowed to think in such worldly terms."

             Paolo smiled, "Priest or not, you will always hold a special place in my heart, Lucretzia. And it goes without saying that you have free use of either ear when ever you need someone to listen…you can even use both ears at the same time…or one ear and a shoulder to cry on… or…"

             Noin elbowed him gently, laughing at Paolo's silliness. It was a nice break from the seemingly interminable tension that she had been living in lately. They talked a bit more, changing subjects several times, reliving old memories, discussing what was to be done with the mansion once the refugees were finally settled. Inevitably, the conversation lulled and the pair stood looking out the window as the sky began to loose its color and fade into night. 

"When do you leave?" Paolo asked, his voice almost a whisper, yet echoing in the silence of dusk. 

"Zechs should be in Siberia by now, hopefully getting some sleep. I'll meet him there tomorrow morning just before the final briefing."

"You should get some rest then," Paolo turned to leave, "Be certain to say goodbye before you leave, to Sister Marguerite especially. You know how she worries about you."

"Yes," Noin smiled, "talk about a mother hen."

"Well, you are her favorite after all," he paused at the door and added with a charming grin, "as well as mine. Take care, Lucretzia."

"I will…_Father_."

========================================__

_             He had purposely avoided his father's study since returning to Cinq. He had managed to work up the courage to visit Rena's nursery, his room, his mother's chambers, even the tower where he spent so many lonely afternoons, but not the king's study. Not until forced. Despite his reluctance, despite the obvious pain, there he stood in his father's study, facing his father's desk, ignoring the crimson stain on the hardwood floor. There he stood looking at Treize Kushrenada sitting in his father's leather chair. _

_"What is in your future now, lieutenant? Oh, pardon me. I should say, Lieutenant Colonel." _

_Zechs managed not to cringe at the use of his new title, but just barely. By all rights, he should be thrilled with a two rank promotion. He was not yet twenty and yet he was a Count, a lieutenant colonel in OZ, and the liberator of Cinq. He should be pleased. He should be proud. He should be._

"So, Zechs. Now that you have accomplished your…oh, what shall we call it? Your task," Again, Treize's words seemed design to cause his former ward discomfort. " I assume you will expect a governing post through Romefellar. Cinq perhaps? That is unless you have accomplished everything you wanted and are no longer interested in OZ's objectives."

_"Your Excellency," Zechs began, his mouth dry and his voice harsh, "I was hoping to serve you for a little longer"_

_Treize smiled one of his rare genuine smiles. "There's nothing that would make me happier, Zechs, but are you certain?"_

_"As it stands, I am known only as a killer of his own men. I wish…"_

_"You wish to continue fighting the Gundams."_

_"Yes sir."_

_"Very well."_

_"Thank you, Excellency." Zechs turned to leave._

_"Oh, by the way…are you planning to take that mask off? You've succeeded in exacting your revenge, what need is there now for a mask?"_

_"I still bring my personal hatred onto the battlefield. Besides…no one would recognize the 'Lightning Count' without his mask, right?" He meant to sound flippant, but instead the words that crept from his mouth rang hollow and as cold as he felt._

_"You are a true soldier and that is why I can trust you with anything…Milliardo Peacecraft."_

_Zechs jerked to a halt, this time unable to hide the flinch. He stood there rigidly, halfway between his father's desk and the grand oak door._

_"Treize…please don't call me that."_

_"Why not? That is your true self, is it not? Little Milli Peacecraft, the pathetic simpering heir to the Peacecraft dynasty. Appropriate that someone as weak as you was born to take your father's place."_

_Zechs spun to face his friend, shocked by the older man's words. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came forth. There was only the sudden, disgusting taste. He swiped at his mouth and drew his hand away. The once pristinely white glove was now soaked in blood. Stunned, he looked to Treize for help but instead met the cold eyes of General O'Neguil. _

_"You little bastard," the man sneered. "Did you really think killing me would free you of my presence? You've given me more power, you know. You've become me, and so I live on."_

_Zechs turned away, clenching his fists, his body shaking and cold. Around him the room changed, morphed into an insidious dungeon.  Cold, dark, familiar. One naked light bulb hung from the ceiling._

_"You were too weak to save your father and too weak to follow in his footsteps. You truly are pathetic, you know." _

_The voice changed again and Zechs turned back to see that the general was gone and in his place stood Otto. _

_"I gave my life for you and this is all I get? A frightened little boy who couldn't even get his country back"_

_Zechs cringed and took a step back. Once again he turned away, trying to shield himself from the truth of his existence. He looked further into the darkness, wondering what lay beyond, when a figure stepped forward. Noin. She stood there, dressed in her fencing uniform, glowing in bright purity against the suffocating darkness surrounding her. _

_"Noin…" he breathed, his voice fading away in an unspoken plea for help. Noin smiled sadly. She opened her mouth, her lips moved. She was speaking but Zechs could hear nothing. He was about to ask her to speak up, to beg her to speak louder so that he might take comfort in her words, but Otto once again made his presence known. _

_ "I'm the one that saved your country, you know." Otto sneered, "They call you the savior of Cinq Kingdom, but I'm the one who did all the work. You couldn't. Admit it. You're scared."_

_"Yes, you're scared."_

_From behind, another voice joined Otto's mocking tone. Zechs looked back to Noin, but she was gone. The new voice continued in a soft, almost soothing tone. Zechs looked slowly over his shoulder. _

_"You were always a terrified little boy. Always afraid of everything. Afraid of love, of hate, of anger, of fear. You're afraid to feel, Zechs Merquise." _

_It was Relena._

_"You're afraid of confronting what you've become. You're afraid to look into a mirror and see the monster you've become."_

_Dear little Relena, all grown up, dressed in pink just as their mother did._

_"I'm ashamed of you, brother. No," she turned her back and began to walk away, "No, I'm too ashamed to claim someone like you as my brother. You're dead to me."_

_She continued to walk into the darkness, fading from view. Zechs managed to snap out of his stupor and started after her. He tried to call out, but his voice failed him. He ran, but seemed to remain in the same spot. Just before the darkness completely enveloped her, Relena turned to face him once more._

_"You have nothing left. Nothing."_

_"Nothing."_

Nothing.

             Zechs bolted upright with a startled grunt. He sat in his bed panting, eyes darting around the room wildly as he struggled to pull his mind from the dream and grasp reality. As his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, Zechs flung back the covers and headed for the small bathroom situated just off his room. He didn't bother with the sink, he was soaked in sweat. Instead, he stripped and stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature to an almost unbearable heat. He stood there, allowing the water to scald his skin while his brain worked madly to adjust to the change in consciousness.

Odd how realistic a dream can be, how logical and true. But just when the dreamer is convinced he is awake within the comforting routine of his own life, the dreamscape changes. Sometimes buried desires emerge, burning way to the surface and playing unfettered by the morals of waking life. Other times, fears, darkness, twisted emotions take control, tormenting the dreamer with visions of horrors untold. For Zechs Merquise, both were equally torturous. He could never decide which was worse, the wishful dreams that tantalized him with his fondest wishes, only to snatch his happiness away with the break of dawn, or the nightmares of his bloody past. 

Sometime the images were mixed. He would dream of the life he should have had, then turn to face the life he was forced to lead by his own hatred. Always, the same faces drifted in and out of his mind. Father, Mama, Rena. His lost family. Noin, Ingrid. The substitute family ripped away. Pagan, Damon, Treize, Johnny. Faces past and present, alive and dead. All looking at him with shame or fear or both. 

He was never what they needed him to be. He was never complete. 

He couldn't be his father's heir.

He couldn't be his sister's protector.

He couldn't be Treize's weapon.

He couldn't be Noin's…

Zechs searched in vain for the proper word to describe his relationship with Noin. She had been so many things to him over the years. A confidante, a sister, a comrade. Hell, even a fairy princess for him to rescue, but what was it that Noin needed of him? Friendship? Approval? They had fought each other as strongly as they fought side by side. They tasted the first blush of passion on each other's lips, but never had they defined what they were to one another. They simply _were_. Luie and Milli. Zechs and Noin. Colonel and lieutenant. Broken spirit and loyal caretaker.  

She did care for him. Deeply. As much as Zechs tried to ignore the fact, the young man was well aware of Noin's feelings. The problem lay in his inability to accept those feelings. He certainly was not in a position to reciprocate.  Not yet. Maybe never. He was like a flame that burned quickly and strongly, but once spent, all that was left were cold ashes. He was used up. His life had been based on the need for revenge. That revenge had been met, if not satiated, and Zechs was left with the cold realization that he had nothing left to live for. Relena was safe again. Noin's appeal to Treize had secured the girl's future. O'Neguil was dead by his hands. What was left? The emptiness of purposeless battles and lives lost for no good reason. 

Noin was not burdened with such hopelessness. Somehow, throughout the years of battle and personal tragedy, Noin's almost childlike faith in the human heart remained in tact. She wasn't naïve by any means. On the contrary, she was as tough a soldier as he had ever met, but at the same time, she retained that the tender heart and optimistic spirit that had earned the eternal friendship of a lonely five-year-old prince. She had faith. Faith in herself, her friends, the goodness of humanity and God. He had nothing but his will to punish those who destroyed his family and even that was gone. He truly had nothing left. Nothing left to give, nothing left to fight for. 

He was thankful that he was no longer in Cinq. The few weeks he had been forced to remain there had been a living hell. He couldn't even bring himself to drive by the palace, let alone stay there, and had spent most of his time in the capitol at the new OZ headquarters. Noin, however, had opted to stay at the old mansion, which had been converted into a temporary shelter for those displaced by the brief battle as well as former citizens returning to their homeland after twenty years of exile. 

Zechs was glad she decided to stay with Sister Marguerite at the shelter. Noin had been quite shaken up by the destruction of the orphanage building and spending time with the woman who had been such a big part of her early life was bound to ease the sense of loss. That and he was glad for the fact that Noin was not nearby when he had his nightmares. She would no doubt try to get him to describe the dreams, perhaps even try to convince him to speak to Marguerite, but Zechs saw no merit in either suggestion. He saw no need to further burden Noin with his old neuroses. So, he kept the dreams to himself and allowed her as much freedom as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn't much as world events continued to progress violently.

With the last remnants of the World Alliance finally swept away, OZ's mission became destroying the Gundams. Romefellar, using OZ, had effectively returned the aristocracy to seats of power all over the globe. The return of the Grand Era was eminent but for the interference of the Space Colonies. Romefellar saw the rebellious mobile suits as the only obstacle to total power and therefore the only threat to peace. The only way to protect what they had gained in the coup was to destroy the rebels as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

Treize himself outlined the plan to eliminate the Gundams. A trap would be set in Siberia, a very tempting trap using the new Space Taurus suits as bait. With such enticements, all five Gundams were certain to appear. It was an incredibly ambitious plan but then, Zechs would expect no less from His Excellency. Plus, Zechs was glad for the chance to leave Cinq and welcomed the distraction of battle. At that moment, he, Noin, Une and three units were in the frigid wasteland setting that trap. It was about as far from Cinq as he could get at that moment, short of going off to space, and he was thankful for the distraction. Try as he might, Zechs couldn't seem to muster much enthusiasm for the operation. It got him away from Cinq for a while, but beyond that…nothing.  

Zechs stepped out of the shower after the water ran cold, dried off and returned to the small bedroom. Wrapped in a coarse robe, he walked to the window and stared out at the clear night sky. Hopefully, the plan would work and all five Gundams would show up. Even if one or two showed, it would be worth OZ's effort. His eyes fell down to the airstrip, specifically upon his Tallgeese. For the first time, he would have a proper weapon with which to fight the Gundams. Tallgeese was, in a sense, the father of all Gundams and therefore the only mobile suit truly worthy of facing the rebel pilots from space. Zechs started to feel a bit of anticipation rise within him.  It would be good to fly Tallgeese into real battle again. This time he would be prepared. His weeks in Cinq had been spent in intense training with the suit and now Zechs was confident in his ability to conqueror the suit. Yes, Tallgeese would fight to its full potential this time and he could provide a true challenge to the Gundams.

**_~~~ Former Kingdom of Cinq, Peacecraft estate ~~~_**

The Merquise boy left several days ago, followed closely by the girl. According to his information, they were to take part in Une's plan to transport mobile suits through Siberia. It was a sound plan, if a bit transparent in it's true intent. The commander figured it was a trap almost from the beginning, but felt no need to recall the Gundams. They couldn't very well avoid every conflict and he was of the opinion that the battle would do them all some good. Keep their skills honed and their goals sharp. He might have gone to observe the battle if not for the fact that it provided him the perfect opportunity to retrieve something from the Peacecraft estate.

The commander knew that mansion very well, almost as well as the former occupants. He slipped past the western veranda, along the stone wall to an obscure fountain set near the edge of the orchard. There, at the base of the fountain, were a series of loose stepping-stones. He lifted one, then another, shifting them in just the right way. A soft click, a gentle beep and one side of the fountain's outer rim slid away, revealing a set of steps leading downward. It was an ingenious design. He had admired it from the first moment the former king demonstrated the mechanism.

The commander slipped down the stairs, pausing to turn on his flashlight as the secret door slid closed behind him.  It didn't take long for him to arrive at his destination. Despite the fact that it had been more than twenty years since he had been to the mansion, he still remembered every tunnel, every exit. Within minutes of his arrival at the estate, the commander was standing just outside the office of the captain of the Imperial Guard of Cinq. Turning to the filing cabinet, he started to jimmy drawers and thumb through files. He wasn't certain anything would be there, especially after so much time, but if the last captain was as thorough as the commander suspected, there would be some evidence. In the second drawer, he found it, though it was filed in an odd place. It was labeled, 'LP.' What was that supposed to mean?

Pulling out a folder, he quickly scanned the contents. Some crayon drawings, a few sketchy reports and…yes. The very thing he was afraid of finding. The photograph. The commander tucked the folder inside his jacket and continued a survey of the cabinet's contents, just to assure himself that there were no other related files. When he was satisfied that he had all the pertinent information, he left the way he came. 

Once free of the estate grounds, he quickly returned to the small abandoned cabin he was using as a safe house and pulled the folder from his jacket. He studied the contents more thoroughly, lingering over the childish portraits rendered by the girl so many years ago. He recognized the scene she had tried to capture. He recognized the boy, one of the confirmed dead, and wondered how much the girl still remembered. Her medical records insisted she did not recall where she came from, but the drawing he held told him differently. Perhaps she did not remember on a conscious level, but some part of her mind clung to her time with the boy. 

There were other drawings, not remarkable to the casual observer, but the commander never looked at something in passing. Everything his eyes touched was carefully committed to memory. The other drawings disturbed him more than the self-portrait and the sketch of the boy. Those drawings showed scenes from a life she had no business remembering. Those were not her memories. She had no right to them. Further more, if she recalled too much, his own welfare was compromised. She had not recognized him when they met at sniper school…but then he couldn't be certain of that, could he? The girl could simply be a good actress. A flair for the arts was certainly in her genes.

The commander contemplated the possibilities carefully. His best chance was to eliminate her and be done with it, but that damnable sense of protectiveness kept nagging at him. The last pesky vestiges of compassion and humanity he possessed. It wasn't enough to make him feel guilty for the life he led, but it was enough to prevent him from eliminating a potentially lethal threat. It was foolish to allow her to live, even if the chance of the girl recovering all memory was slight. He had killed for far less. Many times. If only the girl didn't remind him so much of _his_ Lucretzia. If only Lucretzia Noin didn't remind him of…everything. 

The contents of that file were carefully gathered. The commander then retrieved a matchbook from his pocket and struck a light. Holding the small flame near the corner of the folder, he hesitated. The match burned down to his fingertips, then flickered out completely, and still he remained in that position, holding the match and the folder. With a sigh and a disgusted shake of his head, the commander tossed the file into his small valise. He couldn't bring himself to take her life, at least not until he knew the extent of her memory loss. He needed time to study the girl more, to determine if a threat truly existed. And, if he allowed himself to believe in fate for a moment, then he had to admit that the girl still had a vital role to play in future events. Once again he would allow Lucretzia Noin to live. At least for the time being.

**_~~~ Siberia, Ten miles outside of Novosibirsk on the Trans-Siberian Railroad ~~~_******

OZ's temporary headquarters was being dismantled even as the dust settled from the very expected, much prepared for, Gundam attack. It had been a trap, yet with all the planning, all the preparations, the trap had sprung and caught nothing. Well, nothing save the charred remnants of one imploded Gundam scattered across the dense, frozen soil of Siberia. 

It was an oddly beautiful country, still and cold, yet full of life. Further south along the railroad sat Novosibirsk, a bustling city of a million inhabitants. It was framed by mountains to the east and, to the west, farm planes still worked on occasion by oxen rather than modern machines too susceptible to the cold. The city was ancient in its architecture and history but balanced by all the luxuries afforded to a modern technological metropolis. It was fascinating and, at present, totally ignored by everyone in the vast complex of prefabricated buildings and hastily prepared runways. 

No one took time to notice the brilliant clear violet sky, sharpened by the freezing air, nor anything else save immediate duties. Among them, one lieutenant, usually capable of sparing a few moments to admire her surroundings, stormed angrily through OZ's communications center. Her breath came out in white puffs, the air near freezing even indoors, but she took even less interest in the weather than her surroundings. 

 "Bitch," Lieutenant Noin muttered as she rubbed her reddened cheek. She had managed to keep her temper in check when Une actually hit her, but frigid air assaulting her stinging skin brought Noin's emotions to a head. She mumbled various curses, each more colorful than the last, and mentally cursed Lady Une's method of disciplining her officers. Somehow it had still surprised her. Despite the fact that Noin had felt the back of Une's hand countless times over the past six years, it still somehow shocked Noin when it happened. Perhaps it was the humiliation of being physically reprimanded in front of her former students, or maybe she just hated the feeling of helplessness when she was unable to retaliate. She couldn't very well haul off and slug a superior officer now, could she? Well…she could, but she'd end up under court martial and that thought was even more humiliating than being slapped. No, she couldn't get back at Une. Yet. One day though. One day she was going to get that hag. She was going to knock the ever loving…

"Uhf!"

Noin bounced off whomever she bumped into and landed flat on her bottom.

"Noin?"

Looking up sheepishly, Noin realized she ran into Zechs. He stood, dignified as ever, looking down at her decidedly undignified form sprawled on the floor. The day just kept getting better.

"Uh…sorry, colonel," she mumbled as she sprang to her feet. Under different circumstances, both officers would have found the situation amusing and traded a few good-natured barbs, but neither was in the mood for humor at that moment. 

"Where's Une?" Zechs demanded quietly, obviously seething.

Noin jerked her chin in the direction she just came from and said, "Lady Wench is back there…" Zechs didn't wait for a complete answer before brushing past. Noin caught his arm to hold him in place. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not certain yet. Either yell at her for her stupidity or just snap her damned neck. Any preferences?"

Although the image of Zechs berating Une in front of God and everybody had its appeal, Noin couldn't, in all good conscience, allow that to happen. Zechs was adored by Romefellar's elite, for the moment, but such recognition was usually brief and unreliable. It had been her experience that nobles could be a fickle lot and she was certain there were those at Romefellar who would welcome the chance to take Zechs down a notch, Une being at the top of the list. 

"You're still mad because of her threat to blow up the colonies."

"You think?" 

Sarcasm from Zechs Merquise was never pleasant, but sarcasm mixed with calm anger was definitely a very bad sign. 

"His Excellency already took her down a peg. I don't think it's wise for you to add your two cents worth just now. Especially considering you're just coming off a rough battle and…"

"One _she_ interrupted."

"And," she persisted, "your adrenaline is still pumping overtime." Zechs didn't respond, but he stayed put. "Besides," Noin added with a smirk, "if anyone's going to kick Une's ass, it's me."

             She only half meant that and hoped there was enough wry humor in her words to ease Zechs' tension. No such luck.

             "I can't believe that woman. She's worked with Treize for how long? Six years? And she still doesn't know how to behave in a battle? How the hell did someone like that end up in OZ?"

             "The same way we did I would imagine. Against her will." Oddly enough, Noin suddenly felt the need to defend Une. Hell knows why, but she couldn't stop herself. Her thoughts turned to her sniper training. Unlike Noin, Une had completed the training and had certainly been put to use by His Excellency. "She's been involved in the side of OZ that neither one of us wants to admit exists. I'm not really surprised she would lose sight of certain things."

             "There's no excuse for such behavior," Zechs snapped.

             "I never said there was," Noin countered, more than a little miffed at his tone of voice. She sighed and stepped back. They were both tired and cranky. Not a situation conducive to reasonable conversation. 

             "How soon til daybreak?" Zechs asked, the anger abating somewhat.

             "An hour and half."

             "Are there any tech crews available?"

             Understanding his intentions, Noin nodded. "I'm sure I can gather a crew. I already sent a few men to secure the site. Anything left of Gundam 01 will still be safe until we can get the pieces collected."

             Zechs looked towards her, the glass in his visor catching a glare and obscuring his eyes. Still, Noin could tell from the tilt of his head that he was confused. "How did you know…?"

             "You couldn't save the pilot, so I figured you would want to save the pilot's Gundam. I'm sure the tech crews are drooling over the prospect of studying a real Gundam, despite the fact that it is most likely beyond repair."

             "I wouldn't underestimate our technicians, Noin. Look what they did for Tallgeese."

             Noin smiled. "Quite right. If anyone can fix 01, they can."

             Zechs seemed, if not relaxed, at least less tense. Noin suggested he go get a bit of rest, promising to send someone for him as soon as a crew was ready to begin salvaging the Gundam. It took a few minutes of convincing, but he finally relented and returned to his quarters to clean up. Noin started back towards the control center to gather a team, hoping against hope that Une had already left. Maybe Treize called back while she was gone and read Une the riot act. Yeah. Like that would happen. 

             Thankfully, the command center was still bustling with activity and Noin was able to slip in relatively unnoticed. She made her way to a console and called up the current duty schedule to see who was already assigned where. The clean up operation had been planned before the battle and everyone had a duty. Noin hoped, though, that there were enough crews on standby for her to send a salvage team to the site of Gundam 01's explosion. She walked into the control center casually, speaking to a few officers as she made her way to a console. Too bad the view had been blocked by the communications relay or she might have made a clean get away. 

             Noin jerked to a stop the second she spied Lady Une. The colonel was leaning against the console, arms crossed, head down and obviously deep in thought. Maybe she was so deep in thought that Noin could slip away? Turning slowly, Noin attempted to ease herself away. She could go out and speak to the crews personally. No need for the communications console…

             "Lieutenant Noin."

             Again she jerked to a halt, only a step away from the cover of the com relay and freedom. With a light—and hopefully unnoticeable—sigh, Noin turned to address her superior. Well, superior in rank anyway. "Yes, ma'am. I was just on my way to…"

"What were his exact words, lieutenant?" 

"Pardon?"

"What exactly did His Excellency say when he called earlier?"

             Despite many years observing Zechs, Noin had yet to master the art of completely controlling her emotional expressions, particularly when she was surprised. And she was definitely surprised by Une at that moment. The woman was far too…calm. Noin knew Une to be controlled when needed, but more often than not her demeanor was apt to turn on a dime. All business then, wham. Knuckles connecting with some poor unsuspecting cheekbone. Less often were the moments in which the colonel became quiet and introspective. The latter was definitely the most disturbing of the two.

             That was the version sitting before Noin. Quiet, confused, perhaps even a bit melancholy. Her anger forgotten momentarily in favor of intense confusion, Noin simply stared for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was a voice filled with as much curiosity as suspicion.

             "He said, 'Tell Lady Une to be more graceful."

Une visibly flinched. Noin was certain a barrage of angry words would follow, at the very least a scowl, but instead the older woman simply nodded. Noin frowned and continued.

"He also said, 'We are not the Alliance, we are OZ. In everything, we perform with elegance. Tell her to be as elegant as I know her to be, to be more graceful.' "

Une was quiet for several moments. Just when Noin thought she was off the hook, the colonel added, "What do you think he meant by that?"

             Cue the eerie music and the sudden clap of thunder. Noin was convinced she just walked into a horror movie. Did Colonel Une, hard ass extraordinaire, actually ask for an opinion?  This was _not_ Lady Une, at least not the Une she knew. Noin paused as she remembered a young woman, years before, who sat on her bed and talked like a normal human being instead of an uptight tyrant. Une did have her quiet moments, but they were too few and far between for Noin to make sense of what it all meant. She wasn't certain what to make of the woman before her, but she knew her response to the colonel's question would deeply affect the woman. 

"I believe, colonel," Noin started cautiously, "that His Excellency meant there is a proper way to go about things, even with something as ugly as war. Colonel Treize was emphasizing the fact the _method_ of victory is as important as the victory itself. Overt brutality doesn't have a place in OZ. We're supposed to be the good guys, remember?"

The last comment, although spoken with a placating tone, seemed to sting the most. Colonel Une shot a sharp glare towards the younger woman, scowled for a moment, then just as quickly returned to the same troubled expression she bore a few moments before. She sat in silence for several moments, Noin watching more out of curiosity than concern. Une removed her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. Again her expression changed, softening markedly. At that particular moment, Noin was reminded of the young woman who, so many years ago, offered something akin to sympathy to a distraught thirteen-year-old cadet.

"Is it possible I don't understand him?"  Une murmured, obviously to herself. Noin fidgeted uncomfortably and Une finally registered her presence again. "You're dismissed lieutenant."

"Ma'am."

With a half-hearted salute, Noin left and set about organizing a salvage team, all the while thinking about her brief encounter with Lady Une. Noin knew that Une was totally devoted to Treize, fanatically so, but she had never seen evidence of such a personal connection as she had that night. The lieutenant compared her friendship with Zechs to the obvious bond between His Excellency and the Colonel. There were strong differences, naturally. After all, she and Zechs had been friends literally all of their lives, where as Une and Treize only met a few years previously. There was also the more obvious separation in rank. She and Zechs maintained protocol in public, but their personal friendship never wavered. Une seemed more a follower than a companion. Still though, it was easy to equate Une's devotion to Treize with her own dogged loyalty to Zechs. Perhaps the reasons were different, but she had no doubt Une would follow Treize into hell as surely as Noin would follow Zechs. 

             Noin set out with the salvage crew to oversee the recovery of what was left of Gundam 01.  She sighed as the jeep jerked over the rocky ground. She might not like Une, but she found herself understanding the older officer as time passed, perhaps even sympathizing with the woman's plight.  Noin certainly understood what it meant to stand by a man whose motivations were often too difficult to decipher. She understood the difficulty in separating personal loyalty and military duty. She understood Une. 

             "Damn," Noin growled as she unconsciously touched the red mark on her abused cheek, "I can't believe I'm actually starting to _sympathize _withthat up-tight wench. What's the world coming to?"

**_~~~ OZ headquarters, Kushrenada estate, Luxembourg, next day ~~~_**

Light reflected off the glassy surface of the duck pond in sparkling bursts. It was a clear day, warm for the season, still and calm. Beyond the edges of the pond a carefully raked dirt path wound its way from the mansion in the distance to the edge of the worn wooden pier. It was an almost idyllic scene.  Almost but for the echoing giggles and coos of a baby mixed with the relieved sobs of its mother.  The near hysterical woman clung to her one year old son, flanked by two lady's maids and a young duke who watched her reaction with interest.  The duke, Treize Kushrenada, simply smiled at the display, then turned and walked slowly back the way he came. His black boots thudding dully on the dirt path leading around the edge of the pond back to the grand palace in which he lived and worked. 

             What, one might wonder, was the little drama that prompted such reactions? A frantic mother, oblivious baby, and a scrutinizing observer responsible for it all.  Lady Charlotte was understandably shocked to find her child teetering on the edge of the wooden planks overlooking the pond, horrified when the young gentleman restrained her. She was the tot's mother after all. Even as her tears subsided and the uninjured boy laughed and gurgled, she cast worried glances at the young duke, as if afraid he would snatch the boy from her arms and toss the tot in himself. Lady Charlotte's questioning gaze was scathing, but Treize felt no need to explain his actions. She had failed to see the symbolism in her child's near-fall; she certainly would not grasp his reasons for preventing interference. It was a beautiful moment for him, one that seemed to foretell the outcome of current events. It was his plan in miniature, played out before his eyes in a stunning parody. Humanity brought to the brink of destruction in pursuit of the wrong dream, only to be pulled from the mouth of Hell at the last possible moment. Sometimes one must face total obliteration to truly appreciate life.

History more than bore out his theory. The wars of the twentieth century, the disasters that befell the first space colonists forging a brave new world. It seemed humanity could only learn the important lessons when forced. The problem, up to that point, had been that Humanity had never truly been pushed to the very edge of total obliteration. Entire races were slaughtered, yes. Countries thoroughly ground under the boot heels of invading armies. Entire continents set against one another, but never had Humanity in its entirety faced annihilation together. Lasting peace would never be achieved until that happened. Unless humanity was forced to confront such a situation, petty small-scale wars would continue, destroying the world in measured pieces and chipping away at the spirit of the living. Humanity must be driven to the brink and pulled back to safety and he was just the man to do it…with a bit of help of course.  

**_~~~ Siberia~~~_**

He still couldn't believe Une's tactics. Threatening a colony was more in line with Alliance doctrine than the ideals of OZ. Though Colonel Zechs Merquise was no blind follower of Treize Kushrenada, he did believe that OZ maintained a sense of _honor_ in battle. Une's threat went against everything His Excellency believed in with regards to war. To threaten innocents, people far beyond the boundaries of the battle, was unpardonable. Even more inexcusable, the fact that the threat was not an empty one.  Zechs had no doubt whatsoever that Une would have very happily pushed that button. 

It was over, in any event. Not a satisfactory conclusion to the battle on any level. Not only had the trap failed, his own duel with a worthy opponent had been rendered disgraceful. He had no way to apologize for his fellow officer's behavior, but perhaps he could salvage his own dignity and at least offer the opportunity to continue the duel on more principled terms.  It was a long shot, he knew.  Those Gundam pilots were fighting for things far more worthy than their honor. The boy who operated 01 was particularly devoted to his cause. Zechs  wasn't certain the pilot was even alive. It was just a gut feeling, one that Noin shared. They were pilots, they knew the damage self-destruct mechanisms could do, and that boy had not been wearing any protective gear. Still, he couldn't shake the idea that the boy was alive and, if Zechs could repair his ship, they would finish their duel.  So, there they were, carefully retrieving every scrap of Gundanium, every wire, every shard of tempered glass. 

He was standing out of the way, allowing the crew men to sift through the debris as Noin issued succinct orders in a clipped tone. Zechs had no doubt that the Gundam's strewn parts would be completely recovered within the hour and on their way to Lake Victoria for reassembly. He walked forward, stopping by Noin's side. They did not speak, instead standing together in that oddly comforting silence that seemed to blanket them lately. Each lost in their separate thoughts, yet comforted by the presence of a comrade. It wasn't a feeling he could fully explain to anyone, not even himself, but Zechs found himself clinging to those silent moments like a lifeline. 

             "Colonel Zechs, you have an urgent call."

Zechs glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Who is it lieutenant?"

"He wouldn't fully identify himself, but he said it was an emergency. It involves the Duchess of Camy…?"

Both Zechs and Noin whirled around at that, startling the young officer terribly. Shooting a meaningful glance at Lieutenant Noin, Zechs hurried off to the communications truck. Noin regained control of her expression and let the information sink in. She hadn't heard the name for years and its use now could only mean one thing. Relena was in trouble.  Noin knew better than to follow Zechs to the communications truck and instead busied herself with the collection of Gundam 01's remnants. It was enough to keep her busy, but not enough to keep her mind from wandering to the day she had last spoken to the 'Duchess of Camy.' Despite the worry, Noin smiled at the memory.

Said duchess had been running around the kitchen in nothing but her Underoos singing an obnoxious American song called 'It's a Small World' while she shoved cookies in her mouth. All this while being cheered on by the Captain of the Imperial Guard.  Of course she had only been two at the time and so she was able to avoid a scandal. Relena always got hyper when she had Cook's double chocolate chunk cookies. Hell, a Gundam would get high off of one of those dangerously delicious concoctions. 'Duchess of Camy' was one of the many nicknames the little princess earned over the course of her short life. Properly, Relena's formal title was the H.R.H, Princess Relena, 'Duchess of Calamandre,' but the rambunctious younger Peacecraft had, for obvious reasons, earned the nickname 'The Duchess of Calamity' from Nanny Ingrid. 

From the time Relena Peacecraft could walk, she was in motion. Exploring, climbing, running wild as she could before invariably getting caught. She was anxious to see everything and embrace the world, even as a toddler. Her antics were sometimes hard on the staff and even harder on the fine furnishings they tried in vain to protect from the pink tornado in their midst. After a close call with a Ming vase, Ingrid had declared the little princess to be the Queen of near-disaster and Duchess of Calamity. Relena, being not quite two, thought this a fine title, only her inexperienced baby lips couldn't quite handle 'calamity' and it came out 'camy.' Only the household and family members knew this, Noin because she was best friend to the prince. Most of those who would remember the significance died years ago. 

Once Noin had established a permanent—and secret--guard detail for the young girl, Duchess of Camy was selected as the code name for their reports.  Relena wasn't aware of the team of young men assigned to shadow her day and night. If she had been, surely she would have been more guarded in her conduct.  Noin had hand selected the soldiers personally and they were very good at remaining undetected, but knowing the Peacecrafts as well as she did, Noin expected Relena to get herself into some trouble sooner or later. She would have preferred later, but hopefully it was nothing serious. 

Zechs returned a bit later, looking very grim but not desperate. Relena was alive, at least, and from the steady clenching of Zechs' fists, she surmised whatever trouble was afoot, Relena instigated it herself. 

"Zechs?"

"The Duchess is living up to her title."

"What's she done?"

"Run away. They believe she's on her way to Moscow."

"The Romefellar Conference."

"Yes," Zechs sighed wearily. He rubbed his palm with his thumb, scowling beneath the cover of his mask. "I can't believe she's being so reckless."

Noin snorted, "Oh, please. It's in her genes."

             Zechs let that pass, still too concerned for his sister to respond to the verbal jab. "I wish I knew what she was planning."

             "She's probably trying to find someone who remembers your…" Noin paused when Zechs stiffened. Changing terms, she continued, "Remembers her real parents. All of the older members of the nobility live in Moscow now."

"Noin…" Zechs pulled the lieutenant a few feet away from the salvage crew and faced her. "I can't leave right now…"

"I understand." Noin nodded as she spoke, completely willing to undertake the unspoken task. Her reaction caused Zechs a pang of guilt. It wasn't her duty to protect the wayward Peacecraft children, yet she was always the one to do so. She shielded Relena from the shadows, supported Zechs in the most impossible tasks. Her selflessness served to highlight his own inadequacies.  With a sigh, Zechs attempted an apology.

"I wouldn't ask unless…"

"Zechs," Noin stopped him with a hand to his arm. She looked at him, trying to see his eyes through the glass of his visor. There was a glare as always, but she did catch a fleeting glimpse of a set of concerned cerulean eyes. "I have about, I dunno, a thousand _years_ of leave time saved up. I'll request a few months off for personal reasons."

"Treize won't be happy losing one of his best officers right now."

"Things are calm now. Besides, I think I can convince Lady Une to sign off on this."

Zechs cocked his head and peered down at the young woman in surprise. "Une? You think she will go for that?"

"Yeah well, those braids of hers are tight enough to cut the blood flow to her brain. Lack of oxygen makes a person more agreeable." They both snickered at the mental image of a blue-lipped Lady Une. Noin, though, couldn't help but recall how lost Une had looked when they spoke earlier. The incongruity of this image puzzled Noin and she felt a bit guilty for having made fun of the older woman. Clearing her throat, she continued. "Seriously, she sort of owes me one. She'll either let me go out of forced gratitude or just to get me out of her hair. Either way, I can be in Moscow to intercept Relena before she gets herself in trouble."

"I appreciate this, Noin."

             "Yeah, well, if I ever find out I have a sister, _you_ can baby-sit _her_."

**_~~~ OZ headquarters, Kushrenada estate, Luxembourg ~~~_******

Treize leisurely strolled back around the duck pond towards his family mansion, taking little note of the ornate structure or any of the other luxurious details so indicative of the Kushrenada tastes. He learned long ago such things were more for the benefit of others than those who occupied the rooms within. He meandered down the marbled halls and arrived at his office door just in time to usher in Lady Une, who had returned from Siberia only an hour before. The long night and botched mission obviously had taken their toll on her lovely face, marking her round brown eyes with purple rings. Her hair pulled free of its constrictive bonds in a few places, leaving silken wisps to cling to her neck. Overall, she looked fine, but Treize knew his second very well. She was tired, physically and mentally, and suffering from a severely bruised ego. His brow wrinkled at her contrite attitude. Anything less than total confidence did not set well on her aristocratic face. 

"I'm terribly sorry, Your Excellency," Une began as soon as the office door closed. She included a formal bow. "I overstepped my authority in ordering the destruction of the colonies. It was brutish of me, sir." 

Treize smiled, though Une could not see this from her current position. She refused to raise her eyes to meet his. As glad as His Excellency was that the lady understood why she was wrong, he didn't like to see such a strong woman being so submissive. It didn't suit the Lady Colonel at all. 

 "Well, what's done, is done," Treize said with a dismissive wave, "and your actions did force those who control the Gundams to reveal themselves. At least we know now that the Gundam attacks were planned by a handful of extremists to retaliate against OZ. Our targets continue to be the Gundams, but their supporters concern me. Since the fall of the Alliance, those extremists have had the run of the colonies unchecked. I need a representative to promote the goals of OZ."

"In outer space." 

Treize glanced up and caught Une's expression change from shame to determination. _'That's better,' _he thought, _'much, much better. Lady is much more suited to the ferocity of a lioness than the meekness of a lamb."_

Treize stood and walked back around the desk to stand in front of Lady Une. "I don't want them to undermine my plans. I need someone to court the support of the colonies. Can I rely on you to handle this matter, Lady Une?"

Une, as expected, pulled herself into a crisp salute, "Yes, Sir! I will not disappoint you this time, Sir!" 

Treize smiled mildly and grasped her wrist, pulling her slender gloved hand away from her forehead. He brought her hand down and, ever so gently, began to peel the glove from her hand.  Finger by finger, slowly and deliberately, he pulled the pristine cloth away and dropped it on the desk. He took her hand in the familiar gesture of gentlemen and ladies, barely grasping her fingers as his thumb rested on the knuckles. Une was a bit shaken by this act, though whether it was the breach of etiquette or the sudden physical contact that made her nervous, Treize couldn't decide. He flattered himself that it was both.

"Mr. Treize…?" 

Despite his preference for the stalwart Colonel Une, Treize had to admit that his male ego always flared dangerously at the glimpse of simple Aneke that sometimes peeked through those useless glasses. Her warm brown eyes were large now with uncertainty, giving her a doe-like appearance.  Her normally sultry voice softened to something more demure, laced with the merest hint of—dare he say it?--timidity.  Yes, this part of Lady had its uses.  

He lazily stroked her knuckles with his thumb, his hand speaking a language of its own as his voice remained impassive. "The peace minded citizens of the colonies detest signs of a military presence. I think it wise for you to do away with some of the formalities of OZ."  Une swallowed heavily, her cheeks pinked prettily, but she remained at attention and held His Excellency's gaze steadily. Perfect. Exactly perfect. "Go to Moscow and promote the idea that the Colonies and Earth should be unified under a new treaty. There are many aristocrats and other supporters of OZ in that city. They can assist you."  

He watched Une gather her scattered wits, taking a vain sort of pride in the fact that he had affected her so, and smiled graciously as she acknowledged the order.  He kept her captured hand imprisoned for a few moments more, giving it a little squeeze before gently releasing his grasp. Just before he dismissed Lady, Treize plucked a rose bloom from the vase on his desk. Snapping off the lower stem, he grasped the lapel of Lady Une's crimson coat, pulling her forward slightly. She swallowed again, her eyes riveted to the fingers slipping just under the edge of her coat. Treize's fingertips barely brushed the crisp fabric of her under tunic as he pinned the rose to the coat. With a nod and a formal dismissal, Lady Une was on her way out the door, Treize smiling after her in satisfaction.

**~~ _Moscow, nine hours later ~~_**

A sleek black limousine made its way along the crumbling streets of Moscow. It careened through the hustle of Red Square, past the red brick wall surrounding the Kremlin, built for Czars, taken by the World Alliance, stolen by OZ. To the right, St. Basil's Cathedral, with it's onion shaped domes brightly colored in yellow, green, azure. Next, across the cobbled square at top speed, the limousine managed to finally navigate the crowds and sped towards Sverdlova Square. It came to a stop in front of large, classical style building with eight large columns. Above this portico sat the chariot of Apollo. It had housed the prestigious Bolshoi ballet for almost 100 years before being taken over by the Alliance and converted into a public hall. Now, with Romefellar's coup complete, it was being restored to its former glory. The gathering that night was to celebrate the first performance on the theater stage since the Alliance rose to power twenty years before. For Relena Dorlian, it was the opportunity to get answers.

Revenge hadn't been her intention, but seeing that woman, the monster who killed her father and so many others, Relena snapped. All of the pain and anger plaguing her since her father's death came crashing around her in one instant. Her hand found the gun she had hidden among the satin bows of her dress. It had been an afterthought to grab that gun. She hadn't even been certain why she did it. The guard was tending some elderly noblewoman, his holster peeking from beneath the back of his uniform. It wasn't even secured, just haphazardly sticking into the leather pocket.  Amazing how easy it had been, breezing out of the limo in her elegant gown, gliding toward the stairs leading to the entrance, brushing gently against the young guard, slipping the pistol from its holster and into her evening bag. It took all of thirty seconds. Maybe her real parents weren't the Peacecraft monarchs at all. Maybe her real parents were pickpockets. 

Or jewel thieves…

Or farmers…

Or a dockworker and a stay at home mom…

The fact was, she didn't know. Not for _certain_. Oh, Father had said she was a princess, but he had been on the verge of death. She had been drugged. She could have heard wrong. Plus…he lied to her already. She was fifteen and in all that time Father never told her she was adopted. She spent her entire life in a lie and it was time she found the truth. The gun? Well, she told herself when she took it, that it was just a precaution. After all, these people were strangers to her, supporters of OZ. The very people responsible for Father's death. 

Relena easily made her way up the steps with her purloined firearm secreted now among the folds of her gown's ornaments. Just as she was about to step inside, a guard appeared before her. She clasped her hands together to prevent herself from reaching for that pistol. Smile, nod, act like you own the place. She was no stranger to crashing adult parties. She and her friends were connoisseurs of Europe's social scene. Her first taste of champagne was not at her cousin's wedding earlier that year, as her father believed, it was at a premiere party in Cannes when she was thirteen. If she could get past the door there, she could certainly get past some poor Russian schmuck who wouldn't know a countess from a caterer.

Just when Relena was about to shine it on and take out the poor guard out with her womanly charms, she heard a gasp. Turning, Relena caught sight of an elderly nobleman, a duke by the looks of it, staring at her in utter shock. 

"Katrina…?"

Relena frowned, trying to remember where she had heard that name. In the meantime, the old aristocrat stepped forward to speak to the guard. In moments, Relena found herself being whisked through the door on the arm of a man who had been a friend of Cinq's royal family. Katrina was her mother. She felt butterflies in her stomach and her hope soared. She came for answers and for the first time since the mess had started, she had a real chance to get those answers. 

She followed the old man inside, feigning politeness as she was introduced around. What she wanted was to drag the old man off and assault him with questions. Eventually, she had her chance. She tried not to be too affected by the description of her mother, a mother who she apparently resembled a great deal. Katrina Peacecraft. Her mother. Her birth mother. Suddenly it was all terribly real. Her adopted father's death, the revelation of her heritage, the weeks of chaos. It was all real. Eager for more information, she followed the old gentleman to a table and began to pump him for information. 

Unfortunate that Lady Une chose just that moment to arrive. Relena's curiosity gave way under the strain of her anger. The gun she swiped rubbed against the small of her back, as if beckoning her to take the opportunity before it was lost. In an instant of bitter hatred, Relena drew and shot. She was surprised that the shot hit anything at all. After all, she had never held a gun before in her young life, but she noted, with a detached sort of amusement, that her shot plucked off a rose in the woman's lapel. Good, she thought. Roses didn't belong on uniforms anyway. It was an insult to flowers everywhere. 

The next few minutes were a blur as Relena immediately dashed away. She expected the woman to be hard on her heels along with every uniform in the place, but she heard only a few of the door guards following, and those were scattered. She might just escape this time. No such luck. She skidded around a corner, heading for the dark alleyway in hope of losing her pursuers, but two soldiers dashed out from a different direction a caught her arms. There were loud crashes, the ground quaked, and Relena was suddenly surrounded by three very large, very heavy, very well armed mobile suits. Through her anger, she managed to muster a drop of amusement. Three mobile suits, half a dozen OZ soldiers, all for one little pseudo-princess. Hadn't Une heard of overkill? 

Before the guards had the opportunity to drag her back to their master, everything was turned up end again. A woman's voice, a shot, a retreat. And now here she was—Relena Dorlian, average teen socialite—clinging to the back of a motorcycle driven by a woman in an OZ uniform and trying to come to grips with the reality the fact that she was, indeed, a princess. They drove hard and fast, over sidewalks and through courtyards when necessary, until they reached what looked like a rather run down tenement in Moscow's residential section. Relena briefly entertained the thought of making a run for it, but a glance toward the dirty street and the odd characters standing there looking her way convinced the girl to stick with the status quo. 

The woman called Lieutenant Noin led her guest—or prisoner, Relena wasn't sure which yet—into the tenement where they were met by a group of young men. Some were dressed in business suits, some dress in rags, some in the casual attire of college students. All looked oddly familiar. She didn't have time to consider it further as Noin took her arm and led the way through the musty hall. Relena stepped cautiously, suddenly more conscious of her nice dress when surrounded by peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet. After a few moments, the women arrived entered a small apartment. In contrast to the outside of the place, the little apartment was quite cozy. It was clean, sparsely furnished but still friendly. 

The pleasant atmosphere did much to quell the fear that had quietly settled in her stomach. Relena sat primly in a nearby chair and, encouraged by the lack of violence on anyone's part, felt her courage surge once again. She watched as the dark haired woman checked the apartment and stood briefly in front of the small window, presumably signaling her men. It had been clear from the first instant that those men all answered to this Lieutenant Noin. Good. It saved Relena the trouble of demanding to speak to their leader. 

"Who are you?" Relena demanded in what she hoped was a regal voice. "What do you want with me?"

The lieutenant turned to her and gazed down at the girl for a few moments. Relena, through her flaring temper and raw nerves, tried to decipher the expression on the other woman's face. It wasn't the stern look of a soldier, nor the careful mask of a devious OZ puppet. The woman looked almost…nostalgic. When she finally deigned to answer Relena's question, it was with supreme patience. 

"I told you, your highness. I'm here to escort you home."

Relena felt her heart clench at the word. "I don't have a home," she retorted, annoyed at the catch in her voice. "If you are referring to my father's mansion…"

"I am, in fact, referring to your father's mansion…your real father's mansion."

"_John Dorlian_ was my real father."

"Yes," Noin agreed quietly, "forgive my choice of words, your highness. I should have said your birth father."

The lieutenant's reserved manner, her quiet words and the underlying sense of sadness, softened Relena's determination to make a nuisance of herself. She calmed in spite of herself, the anger she felt only a short while ago slipped considerably and in its place, sudden fatigue. Noin turned and reached for a small, old-style phone. She dialed quickly and spoke in hushed tones as she made arrangements for a low-key departure the following morning. 

"I still don't know where you're taking me, lieutenant," she said with a tired sigh.

The woman smiled. "You can call me Noin."

"Very well. Where are you taking me, Miss Noin?"

"Back to Cinq Kingdom."

             "Cinq…" Relena let that sink in for a moment, remembering what little information she had received earlier that evening. "Cinq no longer exists."

             "Yes it does. I was with the unit that liberated the kingdom a few months ago. It's being rebuilt as we speak. All that is lacking is its leader."

             "You mean me I suppose."

             "You are the heir to the throne."

             "So everyone keeps telling me."

             Miss Noin tilted her head, her brows furrowed in thought. Another one of those pensive looks that Relena was beginning to associate with secrets left untold. After a moment, the dark-haired woman walked to a table, fished through a few papers and retrieved a photograph. Though she stood with her back to Relena, the girl could tell that the photo affected Miss Noin. Turning and walking to stand right in front of Relena, Miss Noin handed over the picture. She smiled sadly as Relena took the photograph and looked at it carefully. 

             "That is a photograph of King Stefan Peacecraft and Queen Katrina, your birth parents. They were the last world leaders brave enough to stand against the Earth Sphere Alliance and promote total pacifism. They gave their lives in defense of their beliefs and they sent their ch-…their daughter into hiding. Both for her protection and as a means to make certain the ideals of Pacifism would live on through her. Through you."

             "What if I say I don't believe in pacifism."

             "I can understand why you wouldn't, but I'm not certain I would believe you."

             "I tried to kill Une tonight."

             "You lashed out childishly. Granted, you lashed out with a lethal weapon, but the point is, you didn't harm anyone."

             "I could have."

             "Possibly. But I'm of the firm opinion that had you harmed anyone—even Une—you would have regretted it tomorrow."

             "I wouldn't regret that woman's death one bit! She killed my father. She deserves to die."

             "That's not for you to decide."

             "Then who gets to mete out justice? You? OZ?"

             "You're not speaking of justice. You're speaking of revenge. Trust me on this one, Your Highness. Revenge would hurt _you_ much more than Une."

             Relena scoffed, folding her arms across her chest in a petulant show of defiance. "How do you figure that?"

             "A little bit of your soul would die. A bit you could never get back. It would eat at you, prey on your dreams, until _your_ punishment becomes far worse the vengeance you sought against the ones who have harmed you. When God said 'vengeance is mine,' I don't think He meant only that we _shouldn't_ take revenge. I think it means we are _incapable_ of taking revenge without causing more damage."

             Relena scowled and remained silent. She looked away, unwilling to let go of her anger just yet, annoyed that a woman she had only just met seemed to know her so well. It was beginning to wear on her nerves dangerously. Her father—her real father John Dorlian---could always see right through her and understand what she was feeling before she could. It always irritated her at first, but eventually, with his deep voice and soft words, he would make it better. Point out her mistake or turn her anger to pity for the person who did wrong. He always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it. All the same strategies he used at the bargaining table, yet she never felt he was 'negotiating' with her. With her, he was just being a parent. A kind, thoughtful parent, even if he wasn't around as much as she would have liked. There was never enough time, and now what little they had was gone.

             Relena jumped a bit when a hand fell to her shoulder. She looked up to find Noin gazing down at her with that sad, understanding expression again, and it was too much. The past few months of living off her trust fund, chasing a strange boy across the globe, chasing down her own past, all of it came crashing down upon her at once. The dam burst and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Noin stood by, squeezing Relena's shoulder in sympathy and waiting. She didn't try to shush the girl and offered no useless phrases of comfort. Nothing could help but a good cry and Relena was grateful that the Miss Noin seemed to understand that completely. 

             When her tears gave way to sighs and then silence, Noin finally ventured a question. 

"What do you think your father would do in this situation, Relena? I don't just mean with Une. I mean with the state of world affairs right now."

"He would try to talk the parties involved into sitting down together for negotiations."   

"Exactly. John Dorlian—like his friend, Stefan Peacecraft—believed in absolute pacifism. Both Minister Dorlian and King Peacecraft would try everything in their power to save lives, not take them."

"Are you saying _you_ believe in Pacifism? You, an OZ soldier?"

"I believe in the concept of total pacifism, even if I'm unable to live up to the ideal."

"But you're a soldier. You've killed."

"Yes, I have. And I probably will again. War is never right, but sometimes it is necessary to fix the mistakes we humans make. I'm afraid I don't have the strength to stand by and remain neutral when others are dying. I feel some fighting is justified, despite the deaths caused, but I also believe that there should be those who stand by their belief in pacifism, no matter the cost. Those people can be the example for us all to aspire to, even if the rest of us are too weak to attain such dedication to an ideal. As long as there are people in the world who are dedicated to the peace, as long as that dream lives on through someone such as yourself, then there is hope for us all." She paused and pinned Relena with an intense look. "And hope, Your Highness, is the very best weapon of them all."

_~**~~ Undisclosed location, Cinq Kingdom ~~~**_

             The commander sat with the contents of his valise spread before him in neat rows. His attention was currently glued to a series of crayon drawings rendered by a childish hand. The signature, scrawled in a surprisingly even script for a child, read, "Luie, AC 181." It really was remarkable, he decided, considering how young the child was at the time. Every detail was perfect, right down to the pressure chambers and the boy's hair color. He always knew that, on some level, the boy and girl had been able to communicate. The scientists claimed that it was impossible, but he knew better. It wasn't anything he could prove to the Doctors' satisfaction, but those two had shared some instinctual connection. A connection that had been severed at the boy's death. Those drawings were the girl's attempt to come to terms with the loss, her grief laid out in waxy color.

             Perhaps, he mused, that was why the girl had bonded so deeply with that colonel of hers, Zechs Merquise. Her spirit would always search for its other half. Having lost it, she filled the void as best she could. Others more romantic than himself would have called it love, but the commander had ceased to believe in such things long ago. Or rather, the capacity to understand such things had died with his wife. He had vague memories of a passion so bright it seemed to out burn the sun, of love so deep that there did not seem to be enough time in eternity to express it, but those were vague memories of a time and a man best left in the legends they spawned. 

             No, his shriveled soul and tepid heart couldn't fathom that the girl might have found a man to _love_, only that she had needed a partner to fill the void left by the other boy's death. After all, it had never been intended for the girl to work alone. It was in her nature to seek out another and build a partnership. The loners came later. Much better idea, too, in his opinion. They should have all been self-sufficient. It made for less trouble in the long run. It had certainly made it easier for him to avoid getting attached. Of course that also might have had something to do with the fact that the loners were all boys. He hadn't wanted to risk another girl. The girls were too difficult for him to be near, so he had insisted the next group be boys. His efforts needed to be focused, trained on his revenge, not skewed by reminders of his dead wife and the daughter he left behind in space. 

             His daughter. He hadn't spoken to her in two months. He tried, but she refused to have anything to do with him any more. In the weeks since her grandmother died, the commander's daughter shut him out completely. Ironic, he thought. The old woman had never liked him, yet without her around, his daughter seemed to resent him with a passion. Any vestige of human emotion the commander retained over the years had been given to her, but he was well aware of the fact that it was far from enough to sustain a child, particularly one as sensitive and full of life as his daughter. Only natural that, having lost her most solid means of emotional support, she lashed out at the man she irrationally held responsible.  He had been there for her rarely over the years and now, it would seem, she refused even that sporadic contact. 

             And, he admitted, it was probably for the best. She was old enough to live on her own, certainly determined to make her own decisions. He could live without the distractions and, he reminded himself, what he was doing was as much for her as for himself. She deserved to live in a better world and, revenge or not, what he was doing would give her a peaceful life in the end. A life ready for love, marriage, children. The thought of grandchildren brought a rare smile to the commander's face, but that smile faded when he thought of the other girl, the one calling herself Noin. What if she, too, had children? What would become of the world if she was allowed to live? The commander shook the thoughts off. He needed to get back to the business at hand. Whether or not Lucretzia Noin became part of that business remained to be seen.

**_~~ Lake Victoria base, repair facility A-3, two days later ~~_**__

"You're certain she's safe?"

"I'm taking personal responsibility for her safety." Noin assured her friend, "I've made a few calls to the authorities and I will be appointed her legal guardian in a few days. In the meantime, she seems willing to stay put and listen to me."

"Or she's lulling you into dropping your guard so she can run amok again. She used to be very good at that."

Noin smiled, "Yes, I remember…which is why I have five new plain clothes guards shadowing her."

"Good," Zechs nodded, the same grim set to his jaw. 

Noin looked at him for a few moments, studying his mood, and then asked, "Why won't you tell her who you are?"

Zechs remained silent.

"We've successfully destroyed the Alliance," she continued, "Anyone who might have been a threat to the Peacecrafts died long ago. What harm can there be in revealing your identity now?"

"Every harm…and I'm not convinced that my enemies are completely eradicated."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking of the day of the attack. Do you remember the party at the orphanage?"  

"Yes, of course."

"Do you remember seeing Duke Dermail in the courtyard?" 

"Yes…vaguely…he was talking to," Noin's eyes slowly widened, "…he was speaking to another man in uniform…an…"

"An _Alliance_ uniform…he was speaking to General Diego O'neguil."

"…my God…I think you're right…"

"I'm convinced Dermail and possibly other Romefellar officials were aware of the attack and, not only did nothing to prevent it, they may have very well participated in the plan."

Noin considered the ramifications of that thought. Zechs was correct, of course. If Dermail was involved in the plot to annihilate Cinq, others in Romefellar were as well. "I understand your caution, but why keep your identity from your own sist--"

"Noin, please. It can't be helped you must see that."

No, she didn't. Not the way he wanted her to see. He was pretending to defend Relena when in reality he was shielding himself from the possibility of rejection. He was frightened to become Milliardo Peacecraft—the vulnerable loving prince—ever again. Afraid to allow himself to become what he perceived to be a defenseless weakling. As much as Zechs hated what he had become, he despised who he had been. 

             "Relena will be attending the Romefellar reception at Treize's headquarters here. I should see how's she's doing with her new clothes."

             Zechs couldn't help a slight smile that twisted his lips. Those hideous old Cinq uniforms. Thank goodness he never had to worry about those again. "I'll call later to see how things went."

             "Yes, sir." Noin gave a crisp salute and Zechs answered in kind. With a gentle smile, Noin added, "Take care, Zechs."

             "We'll talk later, Noin. Goodbye."

**_~~Noventa family cemetery, South of France~~_**

Twenty families who had twenty chances to exact revenge, yet he was still alive.  The boy stood rigidly, staring at the gun clutched in his hand. Twenty times he handed that gun to a grieving relative and expected to be punished and twenty times he was allowed to live. And that last girl—Sylvia Noventa--her anger had been what he was looking for. The anger of righteous vengeance. She took the gun without hesitation, her hands steady and her eyes fierce, but she let him go. Called him a coward for wanting to take the easy way out. Those words rang in his head. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the worst punishment was to live with his sin. To be relieved of his burden through death was the coward's way out.

Sin. It was an odd concept to him. He was raised to believe in orders, not God. God was duty, the devil tyranny. Nothing beyond that, no shades of gray. But then he met that girl. Relena. Simple, naïve child that she was, Relena still believed humanity could be good and that peace was possible without war. Silly girl, with her honey hair and blameless blue eyes. What did she know?  No nightmares troubled her sleep, no gut-wrenching memories crept upon her consciousness. No question of what was right and what was wrong. Her life had been parties, school, friends and beauty. Even with her taste of death through her father's assassination, what did she truly know of hardship and hard choices? He hated her…hated her innocence and ignorance…and yet…

And yet there was that wisdom in her eyes, speaking to him of forgiveness and understanding. Of acceptance. There was the way she smiled through tears and meant it. The way she carried herself with dignity and the confidence of her convictions. The way she smelled…like honeysuckle and daylight. He never thought the sun could have a smell, but being on that planet--an actual planet, not an artificial biosphere wrapped in layer after layer of cold alloy—he realized that sunshine had a smell. It smelled fresh and warm and new. It smelled like Relena Peacecraft.

"Heero?"

He turned at the sound of his name to face his companion. The taller boy gave him a steady look and furrowed his eyebrows. With a nod, Heero turned and the pair walked back to the truck. Heero would have preferred to have gone on this mission alone, as was his nature, but Trowa insisted. He supposed it was part of Trowa's code of honor. He had been raised a soldier--the conventional kind, not like Heero or his peers—and despite the barbarous tactics, there was still a small shred of honor in such an upbringing. Trowa had it in his head that he was responsible for Heero. Somehow, being the one close enough to pick up Heero's comatose body translated into personal responsibility for the pilot's welfare. 

It wasn't too bad though. At least Trowa wasn't one to speak unnecessarily…unlike that Maxwell character who felt the need to fill silence with useless chatter. Trowa wasn't one to engage in inane small talk and it helped to have someone along on that particular mission who felt that way. Maxwell hadn't been too much of a nuisance at the boarding school, and he had to admit the distraction of Maxwell's nonsense was welcome on occasion, but this time Heero needed silence to make his atonements. 

Or try to atone anyway. It would seem all he could get was forgiveness and Heero had absolutely no idea how to deal with that.

====================== End Chapter 15 =============================

Okay, I know that was a lot to wade through, but I promise there is a big pay off in chapter 16, so go on and read that. Yes, it IS already posted! WooHoo! Two chapter update!

_Yet another crummy disclaimer_: I do not own Gundam Wing, Zechs, Noin, Treize, Une…heck I don't even own _Howard!_ Are ya gonna make me get out that can of Lawyer repellant again? Huh? Scram! 

And I leave you with this thought, which I felt was perfect for all of us here at FanFiction.net…

**_"Imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life."_**

**_~Simone Weil~_**__


	16. Wait for me

**AN:   ****IF YOU CAME STRAIGHT TO THIS CHAPTER, GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER 15!**

I replaced the author's note in chapter 14 with the actual chapter 14 and so chapter 15 is new material in addition to this chapter…uh, got that? Anyway, two chapter update this time folks, so back up and read chapter 15 then come back. See ya in a bit…

Episode reference: episodes 9 through 20. 

Still Grows the Lilac 

Part II of **The Lilac Princess** trilogy

_Chapter 16_

_Wait for me…_

****

****

**_~~ Private cabin aboard a river trolley, Kingdom of Cinq~~_**

"I look like a dork."

"You look like the heir to the throne of Cinq. A symbol of peace."

Relena Peacecraft, newly discovered princess of Cinq, shot a dubious look over her shoulder. Lieutenant Noin smirked. "Well…the knee breeches are a little dorky."

"See? How come you get a cool uniform and I get to look like I should be driving Cinderella's pumpkin?"

"Noblesse oblige?"

Relena giggled, her face softening into a warm smile as she said, "Yes. 'From those who are given much, much is expected.' Father used to say that all the time. He said we had to make sacrifices to stand up for those who could not stand up for themselves." She caught Noin's eye in the mirror and added wryly, "I just never expected that the 'sacrifices' he mentioned would include my impeccable fashion sense."

"Now, now. Chin up. We must honor tradition."

"Said the girl in the cool uniform."

"This uniform may look cool, but I assure you it is just as uncomfortable as yours." To prove her point she squirmed in her boots. "I'd give just about anything to get out of these boots for a while." Noin grit her teeth, "I loathe shoes."

"Darn. And here I thought having a female body guard meant I could go shopping whenever I liked."

"Shopping, sure. Just don't take me along on a hunt for the perfect evening pumps, 'kay?"

"Deal."

A few more adjustments, a few more jokes and they were ready to face Romefellar, ready to herald the rebirth of Cinq Kingdom. They left the room together, guardian and charge, leader and protector…

Less than half an hour later, Noin was quite literally dragging Relena back to the boat.

"I can not _believe_ you did that. No, wait. You're a _Peacecraft_. Of _course_ you would leap up onto the stage and berate the whole of Romefellar's governing council. Recklessness is in your genes." Noin sighed in disappointment as they boarded the riverboat. "Relena, you said you would behave yourself."

"I said I would behave in a manner befitting the pacifist leader of the Cinq Kingdom. From what you've told me about the Peacecrafts, that's just what I did."

"Your parents would not openly insult a roomful of world leaders to make their point."

Relena fidgeted at that, then petulantly tossed her hair. "You're just mad because I embarrassed you in front of that cute guy."

Noin grunted in irritation. "That _cute guy_ was Duke Treize Kushrenada, OZ's commander in chief. My duty may be to you now, but that doesn't lessen my respect for the man. You shouldn't have slighted him like that, if for no other reason that out of respect for your family."

"It isn't as though I pulled a gun on anyone this time. I just wanted the opportunity to speak my mind."

"You keep pissing those people off, they're not going to leave you with a mind to speak 'cause they'll blow your head off. This isn't a game, Relena. These people are dangerous. They may act as though knowing when to curtsey and which spoon to use for the escargot are the most important things in the world, but if you threaten their station, they won't politely look the other way. They will come after you with everything they have."

"Is that what happened to my father?"

"Yes." Noin answered slowly. She considered her next words carefully, debating how much of the past she should mention. "As a matter of fact, that is what happened to both of your fathers."

         Relena looked down, a troubled frown creasing her forehead. Noin sighed at the younger girl. It was really too much for one so young. True, Noin had been given command responsibilities at the same age, but nothing to compare to ruling an entire country, especially one with such a tragic past. Plus, that was little Rena sitting there in that old-fashioned uniform. The little, giggling sprite who followed her around making mischief when they were children. Noin smiled softly at the memory of the girl's lisping speech, toothy smiles, chubby hands. She was still just a child.

"This was my fault. I should have realized you weren't ready for this responsibility. I shouldn't have brought you here."

Relena looked up with an offended glare, "You think I'm too immature for this." 

"I think this is a lot to handle at your age."

The young princess crossed her arms with a bit of petulance, but she spoke with an even tone. "What were you doing at my age?"

"I was in my last year at Lake Victoria Military Academy."

"Had you fought in any battles yet?"

"Yes."

"What was it like?"

"……unpleasant."

         Relena's demeanor suggested she expected more of an explanation and Noin sighed in the face of the girl's tenacity. Wearily she continued.

"What do you want me to say Relena? War is ugly. Perhaps fighting is necessary sometimes, but war is not what those people back there want it to be. It is not _beautiful_."

         They fell silent at that, Noin turning away to watch the scenery as the river trolley slowly made its way down stream. Yes, war was ugly, even those fought with the best intentions. War was the plague of mankind, inescapable. The further humanity progressed, the further back they fell into the cycle of destruction and rebirth. Everything torn down only to be built up again according to someone else's vision of paradise. But perhaps things would be different this time. Perhaps this would be the end of the cycle and the birth of lasting peace. Perhaps the Peacecrafts' ideals could finally be realized through their youngest child.

"Fork."

Noin shot a puzzled glance back at Relena. "Huh?"

"You don't use a spoon with escargot," Relena replied seriously,  "it's a special little fork. More like spikes with a handle really."

The dark haired woman stared at the honey-haired girl. Then, Noin rolled her eyes and laughed. 

"Actually, Your Highness, I did know that."

"They teach etiquette in the military?"

"At Lake Victoria Academy, they do. His Excellency is very strict with regards to his officers' general behavior."

"Humph. That's one thing that has always irritated me about the aristocracy. They have this veneer of good manners, but it covers hollow hearts. They spend a great deal of time teaching their children how to appear noble and kind without actually teaching them the values by which to live."

 "I wouldn't make such a sweeping generalization, but I would have to agree with the gist of what you are saying."

Relena appeared deep in thought and didn't answer for several moments. "Maybe that's it."

"What?"

"I've been trying to figure out what I could do, as the new leader of Cinq. I mean, we both know how little influence I have at present. Those who have accepted me have done so out of sentimental reasons. I'm the only daughter of their dead monarchs. They don't really look to _me_ for guidance, do they?"

"No, but you are still young. The country has only just been liberated."

"Yes. We are rebuilding and I think the rebuilding of the country itself parallels the rebuilding of the Peacecraft beliefs. True change can't be brought about through bombs and mobile suits. If it could, the Alliance would still be in power, wouldn't it? That's what they tried to do thirteen years ago. They destroyed the country, they destroyed the king, but…"

"But they couldn't destroy the hope in the hearts of Cinq's people."

"Exactly!" Relena agreed earnestly, "A true revolution must begin inside each person."

         Relena stood as she spoke, pacing calmly as she began to form her plan to rebuild her father's kingdom. Not just the physical aspects, but the spiritual ones as well. Noin couldn't help a burst of pride as she watched the young girl blossom into a princess of Cinq. In her, Noin could see Mrs. Katrina. They shared the same passion of conviction, the same kindness of spirit. Yet, at the same time, Noin saw much of Zechs in the younger sibling. Noin could see the same determination, personal integrity and conviction in Relena that Zechs himself possessed, though Zechs would be certain to argue should the topic ever arise. Lately, Zechs could see very little in himself worth even mild praise, let alone admiration.

Relena's plan was a good one and very possibly the best idea on how to maintain the tenuous peace that prevailed at that moment. They stayed up talking and planning until quite late, but eventually Relena was convinced to get some sleep, leaving Noin to make a call. 

"How is she?"

Zechs sat bold upright in his command chair as he watched Noin on the screen. The reception was particularly fuzzy that evening, but clear enough for him to determine that Noin was calling from  Captain Damon's old office in the palace. Well, it was Noin's office, but she insisted on referring to it as Damon's office, as though she were a trespasser on hallowed ground. Zechs, on the other hand, could think of no one more worthy to step into the captain's long empty shoes.

"You mean how is _your_ sister?" Noin answered with a labored sigh.

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. Visions of a two-year-old Relena toilet papering Trieze's private jet sprang to mind. "What did she do?" Zechs asked warily. 

"Well, as I told you, we attended the Romefellar reception."

"Yeees…"

"Everything was fine. I even checked her for weapons before we went in, just in case, …_then_…Her Royal Highness leapt on the stage and proceeded to slam every member of Romefellar present, their mothers and the horses they rode in on."  She paused and they blinked at each other in silence for a moment before Noin conceded,  "Okay, so I exaggerate for effect, but not by much."

"She really stepped in it," Zechs said with genuine concern.

"Hip deep. Thankfully, not everyone took her seriously. Treize actually looked rather amused. "

         Zechs pondered this for several moments. Treize had been quite surprised when Relena's identity was made public. It had been an open secret between the two that Zechs was indeed the lost Prince Milliardo, but Treize had had no knowledge of any other Peacecraft survivors until Noin had revealed Relena's relationship to the Lightning Count. They had not spoken of it openly, and Zechs doubted they ever would. It wasn't their way. They sidestepped, backhanded, avoided all together, but they never openly discussed the past. It was a relationship far different from what Zechs enjoyed with Noin. For all that Zechs looked up to the duke with an almost brotherly loyalty, he knew Treize would sacrifice whomever necessary to accomplish his ultimate goals and betraying a fifteen-year-old princess wouldn't cause much more than a brief pang of guilt, if anything. The restoration of the Peacecraft monarchy was not in Treize Kushrenada's plans.

"Do you think we should find a safe house, put her under guard?"

         "No, I don't."

         "You don't think she will be targeted?"

         "I didn't say that. If Romefellar doesn't think her a threat yet, they will when they hear her plans. I just mean that I don't think she should go in hiding right now. The world needs to see her."

         "What are her plans?"

         "She wants to set up a special school in Cinq. One based totally on the teachings of Stefan Peacecraft and Hiro Yuy. It will be open to all, but she intends to recruit the daughters of world leaders in particular. A generation of young leaders taught to believe in pacifism and diplomacy over war."

         Zechs remained quiet for a long time, a smile of pride slipping into his expression. He knew he, of all people, had no right to feel proud of the young girl, but he couldn't help himself. If for only a moment, Zechs felt as though his sacrifices were justified. He had allowed himself to become a monster for revenge, but also for the hope that his sister could carry on where he could not, live up to their family's legacy where he could only wallow in blood. Relena. He had been right to leave her to grow up in love, protected from her brother's pain and anger. She had become the very person their father would want to succeed him to the throne. 

         His throat suddenly felt tight with emotion and all Zechs could manage to say was, "That's good."

         Noin smiled, her head tilted in that way she had, making her look every bit as young as her ward. Zechs returned her understanding smile, admiring the relaxed expression on his friend's face. It had been a difficult few months. They were all under a strain, Noin doubly so as she struggled to fulfill her duties to OZ as well as assist Zechs in his personal missions. He felt a pang of guilt. At times, Noin had been little more than a glorified gofer for him, but she never wavered in her support. Sometimes he wondered what he did to deserve such loyalty when he himself was becoming more and more rebellious.

         Shaking those thoughts away, Zechs asked, "Aside from the tongue lashing, how did the reception go?"

Noin made a comical face. "Dermail's speech was the usual load of hooey canonizing Romefellar while vilifying the Alliance. Then he harped on the Alliance's lack of proper control mechanisms within it's hierarchy and pointed to this as a sign of the fundamental problem with their rule: the fact that they were not equipped to lead because they forced their way into power rather than being born to the ruling class. Blah, blah, blah. Then he segued into a lesson in the superiority of the aristocracy and promised a return to the gentle traditions of the pre-colony days, introducing His Excellency as the so-called 'standard bearer' for the new resurgence of the old world order."

         Zechs chuckled lightly at Noin's gestures and the last roll of her eyes. Clearly she had no love for Romefellar society. "And what did Treize say?"

"That we need a government to control our human tendencies." She grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "You should have heard him, Zechs. He actually said that the world needs a leader who is beyond God." 

"And you were surprised by this?"

Noin Shrugged. "No, I guess not. I mean, I know he doesn't really believe half the things he says in his speeches, he's just trying to play to the audience, but that was a little over the top, even for him." She paused there and gave Zechs a searching look. He watched her pink lips purse together a few times, open, then close. Noin might be more observant than he was, but Zechs did know her moods and expressions very well himself.

"Noin?" he prompted. "What's wrong?"

"There's something else. About you."

"Oh?"

"Dermail questioned His Excellency's dependence on you and he mentioned a rumor that you are rebuilding the destroyed Gundam."

"I see." He nodded, trying to ease Noin's concern with his own disinterest.  "So people in high positions know about Gundam?"

"Apparently Romefellar's command council was shaken by the incident in Siberia more than we were led to believe." 

"What was Treize's reaction?"

"He agreed to destroy the Gundam if Romefellar found it necessary, but Treize seemed against the idea."

"I'm sure he was, but even _he_ has to answer to someone."  

Noin nodded, peering at him intently. "Are you going to do it?"

Zechs held her gaze through the glass of his visor, wondering if she could actually read the answer in his eyes, or if the glass obscured her view. He decided to change the subject and avoid a question he did not fully know the answer to himself. "What is Relena doing now?"

Noin grinned suddenly. "I finally convinced her to go to bed, which was no easy task I'll tell you. She is very…energetic. It's hard to protect her."

"What does she know about herself?"

"Her foster father, Mr. Dorlian, told her a little bit before he died. She had been raised with the knowledge that her mother died when she was young, but was never given details. Mr. Dorlian passed himself off as a widower and there was a string of governesses to help out, though none lasted for very long. She knows now, of course, that her real parents were Stefan and Katrina Peacecraft." Noin paused, scrutinizing her friend's demeanor before adding, "and I mentioned you." Zechs stiffened visibly and Noin rushed on, raising a placating hand. "All I said was that you are a loyal soldier from Cinq Kingdom and that you were the only person who saw the 01 pilot self-destruct. Because you are rebuilding the Gundam, she wonders if the pilot is still alive."

Zechs felt more than a little alarmed. "Why would that interest her?"

"Well…" Noin took a deep breath, then blurted out the answer. "She's met him."

Silence. Complete utter silence for several minutes. Zechs' felt the muscles in his jaw clench and twitch as he ground his teeth as the implication imbedded itself into his brain. When he spoke, it was in a low, strained voice.

"How in bloody hell did that happen?"

Noin appeared to be unfazed by his reaction. "Actually it happened the same day you met him. He made it to shore after 01 crashed and Relena found him unconscious on the beach. How's that for incredible coincidence?"

Zechs ignored the latter comment. "How well does she know him?"

"Not that well. He was briefly enrolled at her boarding school. He goes by the name, Heero Yuy, spelled with two e's."

"Heero Yuy," he said with a mirthless smile. "How ironic." A violent rebel fighting under the name of the Colonies' peace-minded leader. Zechs, at least, had the decency to change his name before taking the bloody path to destruction. All that boy did was change the spelling. Why would those people feel the need to sully the name of a legend such as Hiro Yuy.  Zechs only wondered for a moment before his brain switched back to protect-his-sister mode.  "Are they still in contact?"

"No," Noin replied with confidence, "though I sense she wishes that were different."

Underneath the safety of his mask, Zechs allowed an expression of dubious curiosity. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think she has a little crush on the boy," Noin said mildly. 

Zechs felt a hot stab of annoyance. "Damn it to hell…"

He would have said more, but Noin waved down his objections before they fully materialized.  "I know, Zechs. He's a dangerous rebel. I'll make certain he doesn't have an opportunity to harm Relena in any way. I don't believe he would see her as a threat, though. Her adopted father was strongly connected with the colonies. It's been widely publicized that she is truly Princess Relena, daughter of Hiro Yuy's greatest supporter on Earth. That makes her his ally, not enemy. Nothing is to be gained by threatening her and he won't get close enough to try. Besides, he had the opportunity to hurt her that day on the beach as well as at boarding school, but he didn't. She is obviously of no interest to him."

"I suppose..." conceded sullenly. Noin's serious expression softened to a knowing smile. Zechs frowned.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Noin…"

"Well, it's cute don't you think? Your little sister has her first crush. Isn't that adorable?"

Zechs shook his head, letting out a slight sniff, which might have passed for a chuckle. His sister had a crush on a violent, well-trained killer. Yeah. Real cute.  "Thank you for your report, Noin."

"Zechs…are you ever going to tell Relena the truth?" 

Her answer was a moment of silence before Zechs once again changed the subject.

"Noin…I'm sure Treize will make good on his word to Romefellar soon. I'll have to put on a good show and I don't have much time to prepare."

"You _are_ planning a rematch with that pilot. I knew it."

"If we can find him." He paused briefly. He didn't want to ask this of her, not after all she had done for him so far. She was a decorated officer, after all, not Zechs' little messenger girl. But there was no one else. Well, no one he could trust with what he needed. "Noin, I don't want to ask this of you, but you're the only one I can trust."

"Consider him found, sir."

**~~_ Secluded Warehouse, Northern Germany, three days later ~~_**

         Sirens blared in the small German town, OZ soldiers scrambled from one end of town to the other while the citizens of the tiny hamlet wondered at all the fuss for two teenaged boys. Those boys, however, were not merely teenagers on a joyride. They were well-trained rebel agents from the colonies. While the authorities ran themselves ragged, the boys stood inside a vast warehouse, discussion what to do with the rather large mobile suit in their possession. 

"It's impossible to transport this by land," Trowa commented as he glanced outside. Heavy Arms had been well-hidden within the circus caravan, but now that he and Heero were on their own, the task of moving such a large transport vehicle unnoticed was a bit more difficult. Just a bit.

"By ship?" Heero suggested absently. 

"By ship will also be difficult since they are already looking for us at the port."  
From across the warehouse, a third, more feminine, voice broke in, "You can use my airplane."

The pair whirled on their eavesdropper. The gun was out before he turned fully, safety off, aim true, then he stopped. The boy who called himself Heero Yuy stood perfectly still, eyes upon the intruder and ready to kill. Then he flinched. Anyone observing the trio would not have noticed even the slightest movement, but Heero, accustomed as he was to having total control, still could not help but react when he saw her. She stood framed in the doorway to the abandoned warehouse, the bright mid-day sun creating a harsh backdrop for her slender form. The light behind created a dark shadow in front, obscuring the woman's face, but not completely. He could still see her eyes. 

         Violet eyes.

It started with a vague buzzing in his ears. Then a sharp pain in his head. Then the flash of memory, fleeting and false. It wasn't a memory of his own, it never was, but there was always that fraction of a second in which the false memory felt so solid, so _real_, that Heero could almost believe it was. But it wasn't, and knowing this made it easier to quash the false memory and regain his composure before he faltered. Had he not been caught off guard, the false memory would not have been triggered, that was how well he learned to control his thoughts and the processes in his brain, but seeing her standing in that halo of light…it was too much. For that instant, but only that instant, the false memories raged to the surface, beyond his barrier and begged to be heard. Denied, of course. He never allowed his defect to control him. Indeed, he had become so skilled in repressing that part of his mind that Doctor J assumed the problem had been solved. He also learned long ago that, though his loyalties lay with the Doctor and his colony, there were things that they need not know. It only brought trouble upon himself. 

He stood still and silent, his companion likewise, staring at the young woman. And then it happened again. Not to him. To her. A flash of confusion and something else darkened her features and disappeared almost as quickly as it came.  Her eyelids fluttered as she blinked back whatever it was she felt. Here breath quickened slightly. There was a spark of pain in her eyes and, what was that? Recognition? 

Her reaction, unfortunately, was also fleeting. All this took place in the span of a few moments, or as they say, quicker than the human eye, but Heero's eyes were not human. They were better. Beside him, Trowa tensed.  Heero sensed his new comrade's reaction more than saw it, but he knew that the older boy was scanning the perimeter, looking for any sign of soldiers surrounding them. There were none, or so it seemed, other than the woman. 

Heero hadn't mistaken that moment of recognition. As soon as her eyes cleared, the woman smiled. It was one of those damned 'all-knowing' smiles women tended to get and it was one of the few expressions he was unable to fully decipher. He hated that kind of smile. Relena smiled at him like that the night he rescued her from certain death and it confused the hell out of him. But this woman wasn't a sheltered, innocent school girl, she was a soldier of OZ. If she knew something he didn't…well, it just wasn't a good thing. 

 The woman's expression softened to mild amusement as she stooped to pick up the apple Heero dropped in favor of his sidearm.  She polished it slightly between her glove-clad palms and said, "Your ability to survive amazes me. It's an honor to finally meet you face to face, Heero Yuy."  She smirked at the mention of his name and generally gave off the impression that they shared some private joke. Another image flickered through his mind and Heero was tempted to push it aside until he realized this memory was actually from his own experience. A hospital cafeteria, a violet-eyed girl in a green jacket and a big plate of brown stuff. 

"Who the hell are you?" Trowa demanded, taking it upon himself to break the brief but tense silence. "What do you want?"

Stepping forward and executing an elegant bow, she replied, " I am Lucretzia Noin, I serve with Colonel Zechs Merquise."

"Who is Zechs?" Heero asked quietly, his voice even and devoid of any emotion. 

"He is the pilot you fought in Siberia."

Trowa, looking and sounding terribly unimpressed with the entire situation, said simply, "I won't allow myself to be captured."

The woman, Lucretzia Noin, smiled that smile again, this time pissing off Trowa as well. "If I intended to capture you, young man, I would have shown up with a battalion of mobile suits. I'm only here to deliver an invitation." Her eyes met Heero's.  "Zechs wants to meet you."

"To meet us?" Trowa sneered. "He thinks he can get information from us?"

Noin's eyes hardened a bit as her gaze returned to Trowa. "Don't misunderstand me. He wants to meet you, not as a soldier of OZ, but as a mobile suit pilot. He wants to continue your duel under more honorable circumstances."

"He wants to duel?" Trowa sniffed sarcastically, eyes never leaving Noin as if issuing a silent challenge of his own. "What a _great_ man this Zechs must be."

Noin scowled faintly but dangerously, however her voice was as cool and even as before. "It's up to you if you believe it or not. I am here to escort you should you accept the invitation."

Heero, who remained silent throughout the exchange, finally lowered the gun and asked, "Where is he?

"You believe her?" Trowa was obviously shocked. Heero couldn't blame him really. It was a foolish thing to do. That battle was over and it was time to move on. One never retreads old battlefields. The objective is either met or not. There is only failure or victory. No do-overs. But he had to admit, too, that the Siberian battle left him feeling empty. That other prototype Gundam had been quite a match for his Wing. Armaments comparable, weight even, maneuverability similar. He had been interested to find out which suit was superior, but the battle had been cut short by that lackey of Kushrenada. What if the battle had been allowed to continue to its inevitable conclusion? Who would have been victorious?  The fact that the other pilot had backed off and allowed Trowa to intervene spoke of Zechs' wish to find the answer to that question himself.  Heero paused, studying the strange woman carefully before responding. "He's not the kind of person who resorts to such tricks."

That seemed to be enough for Trowa and he finally relented. "I see. Then you can use Heavy Arms."

"Trowa…you don't have to…"

"Yes I do."

         With that, it was all settled. Noin had arranged for the remaining OZ troops in the town to follow a false lead towards the port while, the pilots drove the transport to the airstrip. Within half an hour of their meeting, they were en route to Antarctica. Heero thought with some amusement that it was an appropriate place to fight. After all, he had fought on every other continent on the planet, might as well make it a sweep. During the first leg of the journey, he and Trowa became aware of the fact that Noin's group was on the look out for other OZ aircraft in the area. It made sense that Zechs would have to make secret arrangements for such an unconventional duel, but Heero suspected there was much more to it than that. He shrugged it off, though. It wasn't his problem if these people got themselves in trouble with their superiors. His only goal at present was to fight Zechs Merquise…and win. 

         During the longer second phase of the trip, Trowa and Heero occupied themselves with Heavy Arms. It was very different from his Wing, but could be just as effective in the upcoming fight. What it lacked in flight capability, it more than made up for in sheer fire power. He could compensate for the lack of maneuverability, but bearing the extra weight could be a problem, particularly with unhealed arm. They spent several hours working with the suit's systems, both aware that Miss Noin was nearby watching. They tried lapsing into different languages, each could speak several, but it proved to be a useless tactic. Lieutenant Noin, according to the personnel file they hacked into when she wasn't paying attention, could speak twenty-seven languages. Heero raised an eyebrow at that bit of information. Language wasn't the easiest area of study for most people, but she seemed to excel. Just as he did. Trowa had learned the languages necessary to survive his early life as a mercenary. Heero, on the other hand, simply had an innate gift for foreign dialects and was able to master any language in a matter of days. He knew his penchant for language was part of his special 'training,' and finding someone else who could pick up such things was a bit of a surprise.

As time began to run out, both pilots dropped their concerns about the unusual escort they acquired and returned to the task of readying Heavy Arms for battle. About three hours before they were due to land, Miss Noin interrupted and pointed out the rather large bloodstain spreading over his shirtsleeve. Somehow—he was still trying to figure out how—Heero suddenly found himself in a cabin having his arm bandaged by the woman. It was certainly odd. He definitely remembered saying no when she offered, but there he was, so he made the best of the situation. 

He leaned back and allowed his arm to be tended by the dark-haired woman but he watched her carefully. He agreed with Trowa that the woman was an good soldier, even if she was with OZ, and both boys wondered how she ended up being chosen to ferry them to an illegal battle. There was something about her that still disturbed him. No, it wasn't that she was with OZ, that she seemed a formidable opponent, or even that she was hovering over them with what appeared to be concern. No, it was something else. 

When Miss Noin stood and removed her green jacket, it hit him. He stared up in wonder at the face of the little girl who had introduced him to chocolate when he was a child. He tried to retain as little frivolous memories as possible, but for some reason, that little girl's memory had stayed with him. Now, she sat beside him, grown-up and once again treating him with motherly care. Heero was not a person who believed in coincidence and the realization that this was the same girl he remembered did nothing to ease his sense of suspicion. There was more to it, though. She brought up disturbing feelings that he didn't understand. He dismissed it initially as being associated with that brief meeting from his childhood, but he knew that wasn't it, not really. It was because of the _other_ memories. The false memories. And the voices, speaking that language he never learned and yet understood completely. Another dark haired woman, standing on a beach…

"_How do you feel, caro?"_

Heero jerked slightly. "What?" he stuttered, clearly startled.

Noin eyed him in concern and repeated, "I asked how you were feeling, Heero."  Frowning at him she lifted a hand to feel his forehead only to have her wrist caught by the boy.

"I'm fine," he grunted, pushing her hand away.

"No you're not," Noin muttered as she stood and gathered the med supplies. "But I suppose there's no arguing with you about it, so I'll leave you be for now. The liquid stitches will keep the wound from opening up under normal movement, but try not to do anything strenuous tonight. It's probably a waste of breath to suggest this, but get some rest, kid." She paused at the doorway and tossed another comment over her shoulder, grinning smugly, "If you're a good boy, I'll see if I can find some hot chocolate."

Heero glared at her back as her laughter faded down the narrow hall. He fell heavily onto the cot, clutching his arm and squeezing his eyes shut. Another wave of dizziness washed over him and this time, he was either too tired or too confused to fight it off easily.  He struggled against the confusion, ignored the pain in his head and remained cool. It had been literally years since he had such an experience and it surprised him that this woman brought it back with such force. He told himself that it was just the surprise of being found and the coincidence of being found by the very same girl who introduced him to chocolate cake all those years ago. He told himself that, but that vague insistence in his mind told him that the false memories he worked so diligently to suppress had something to do with that Miss Noin, but what he had no idea. The buzzing was louder, the whisper of long repressed voices calling him into a mental image he refused to acknowledge. He quashed the false memory before it took root and quickly regained control of his thoughts. Long years of training had taught him how to push the false memories away, back to that corner of his brain that belonged to someone else where they would remain locked up and inaccessible to his conscious mind. 

With a groan, Heero forced his body to relax. He was beginning to wish he had never come to Earth. Not only was he being babied by a woman who set his mind reeling, he was on his way to what could very well be a trap. Every fiber of his well-trained being screamed as much, but something else inside Heero told him his destiny lay on that frozen wasteland. He told Trowa to live by his emotions, and now he found himself drowning in his own. He was risking everything on a feeling. Just as he had with her. The girl. Relenena. Logic, his training, and every inborn instinct for self preservation bade him kill her upon their first meeting, but he couldn't. Whether it was because of her eyes—so much like that other little girl so long ago—or maybe it was…or…what? He had no reason. There was no reason. Only a _feeling_. Whenever he was around Relena, he had a vague feeling settled in his stomach. She represented everything he was fighting against, yet at the same time, everything he was fighting to protect. An incongruous mixture of hatred and longing swelled within him along with uncertainly and determination. He felt like he wasn't good enough to be on the same planet, but with her honey-colored hair and her reassuring smile, Relena made him _want_ to be good enough. She made him want to be human, live a normal human life…but that was impossible. He was not a normal human.  He was a soldier, bred for death so that others might live in peace. For others. Peace was not for his kind.

Against his better judgment, Heero slept a bit before they arrived. Miss Noin, as promised, supplied them with a good cup of chocolate along with their heavy winter gear. They landed roughly in the dry, cold air and came to a stop at the far end of the base. Noin ushered them out as she barked a few orders to her men. They stepped off the plane and started towards a small group of men on the far end of the tarmac. Noin called out to the group as they approached. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Heero caught the smile that spread across the woman's face, confirming what he and Trowa had theorized the night before. It had struck both he and Trowa as odd that an obviously elite officer would drop everything to ferry them across the world for an illegal duel. If it had been her fight, maybe they could understand, but Miss Noin was doing this on behalf of another officer, one who seemed to be in serious trouble with his superiors. A lot to risk, even for a friend. That look, though, explained it all. Miss Noin obviously lived by her emotions, too.   
 

**_~~~ Lake Victoria Base ~~~_**

         "I'm sure you know where Miss Noin is, I don't understand why you won't tell me. I've explained who I am and that Miss Noin is a personal friend."

         "Yes, miss, but I've been given strict orders."

         Relena Dor—no, _Peacecraft_. She really had to get herself used to that. Relena _Peacecraft_ stood looking at the young man. He couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than she was. It occurred to her that she could probably engage in a bit of careful flirting and eventually get him to tell her what she wanted to know, but then it also occurred to her that Miss Noin might have very good reasons for keeping her whereabouts secret. With a sigh, the girl looked out the observation tower window towards the wreckage of Heero's Gundam. 

         Pagan had been the one to tell her that the suit's remains were to be destroyed, his hope being that she would give up her foolish pursuit, but it had quite the opposite affect. With all that was happening to her, with all that was out of her control, this was one thing she could do for herself. She could follow her conscience, follow Heero. Her best lead lay in a heap of Gundanium outside the tower, so she wracked her brain for some clue. Zechs Merquise had been the last one to see the younger pilot alive. Perhaps he could help. Surely, he couldn't refuse. From what Miss Noin had said, the man was not only a native of Cinq, but had served her parents faithfully before their deaths. As the last Peacecraft, he would be honor bound to help her, right? Right.

         "Very well. Then tell me where I can find Lieutenant Colonel Zechs Merquise."

         "I…uh…" 

The man stuttered pathetically until the long range communications panel beeped. With obvious relief, the man stepped to the next room to answer. Relena rolled her eyes. Well, there when that idea. Obviously, Mr. Merquise was also 'on special assignment.' The situation was beginning to irritate her to no end. Something was happening, something important, and she had no idea what. She had clues that led no where and allies who disappeared with no trace. It was like having the pieces to a puzzle, but no picture as a guide. Miss Noin was off on assignment, Heero disappeared after having trekked all over Europe, Colonel Merquise was unavailable until further notice. Something was going on, but she couldn't piece it together. 

Until she overheard the message from Antarctica. 

**_~~~~Secret OZ Base, Antarctica~~~_**

"She and her personal assistant took off in a private jet a few moments ago, ma'am."

"Pagan's flying her back to Cinq, correct?"

"Uh…no, ma'am. I don't think so."

"Well, what do you think?" Noin asked slowly and with supreme patience.

"Ma'am…I'm sorry, Lieutenant Noin, but I think she overheard a message I received earlier and that she's…on her way…to you…"

Noin pinched the bridge of her nose. She should probably be furious at the officer as well as Relena's guard detail, but somehow she couldn't blame them. That girl was tough to keep up with on a good day, but when she was truly determined, Relena Peacecraft was impossible to stop. Noin smiled. It was one of the things that made her such a good leader. Peacecraft stubbornness. 

"Geez…" Noin chuckled to the vid screen, "…even Relena knows what's going on. I assume Romefellar knows now? Great…." She let the poor officer off the hook and deactivated the screen, leaning heavily on the table. "Lovely," she said to the empty room, "everyone is going to be sucking up to Romefellar now and doing what ever they can to get noticed. Exposing Zechs, Romefellar's hero, as a defender of the Gundams would certainly earn someone major points in Duke Dermail's camp. Hopefully we'll be finished here before anyone has the chance to crash the party….but…if we have to hide this in the first place…" Noin rubbed her forehead roughly, as though to blot out the next thought. "…maybe Zechs is about to make a big mistake?"

         Noin stood upright and straightened her uniform coat. Turning to the door, she came to an abrupt halt. Standing, leaning casually on the door frame in a posture Noin always thought both charming and arrogant, was Zechs Merquise. Having been caught, he peered at Noin for several moments before casually apologizing.

"I am sorry, Noin. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Noin suppressed a snort. Of course he didn't mean to eavesdrop, she thought wryly. "Colonel," she said in way of a greeting.

"I might have a partial answer for your questions," Zechs continued gently as he turned to face her. "In all my years in OZ, I thought I figured out what it meant to be a soldier, but I was wrong. Those Gundam pilots are the true warriors. They're desperate, willing to die in defense of their cause. I, on the other hand…"

There was a slight pause as Zechs allowed the implication to hang in the air. Noin shook her head. She wasn't going to sit back and allow him to do this to himself. 

"Heero and the others know what they are fighting for! Zechs, you have something to fight for as well. Some_one_ to fight for."

"I don't have the right to protect anyone. My reasons for fighting were never _about_ protecting anyone, not really. I became a soldier for one reason. Revenge…and now that reason is gone…"

Noin felt her heart breaking as it had a dozen times since O'Neguil met his end. "Zechs…"

Zechs shook his head, halting her attempt at comfort. "No…Noin…if I am incapable of finding a legitimate reason to continue, then it is best that I am defeated here. Some lessons can only be learned by risking one's life."

Noin nodded silently, considering his last statement. Perhaps he was right. She had done all she could to show Zechs he had a purpose beyond vengeance, but it was up to him now. 

"You know she is on her way," Noin started carefully, "The search party will find us eventually."

"I understand. I'm counting on you to keep them at bay until this is finished. "

"Don't worry. I'll keep everyone out of the way. You needn't concern yourself with the search party."

Zechs turned to leave, but stopped and peered back at her. "My only concern is for the young Princess of Cinq…my dear Imperial Guard." His voice was softer than usual, his tone carrying a rare hint of affection, for her or for Relena she couldn't tell, but those final words carried an unspoken request. '_Protect my family_.' Noin had her purpose now, to guard the Peacecrafts. Both of them. But could Zechs truly find purpose in a useless duel? 

"You may not realize it now, Zechs," she whispered to the empty doorway, "but you do have a purpose. If fighting Heero out there makes you realize you are worthy of protecting Relena, then I'll do my best to help."

**_~~~ OZ headquarters, Luxembourg ~~~_**

         Une entered her suite in the same solid, almost arrogant, manner she had when she walked into any room. It was a walk born of self-confidence and long years of devout military training. She gave no thought to her posture. There was no need. She was who she was and that was reflected in her movements. At that particular moment, though, she was simply tired. She had been getting tired more frequently lately and found this increasingly annoying. She had work to do. There was no time for rest when His Excellency was on the verge of realizing his dreams. 

         She allowed her ladies maids to remove her uniform and replace it with a silk dressing gown, then noticed how nervous they all seemed. Generally, she paid little heed to her private staff. Having such attendants was simply one of the oddities of being born of noble blood, something she took for granted from her childhood. But there were times when the swarm of young girls were more a nuisance than anything, and this was one of those times. She sent them away abruptly and sat at her dressing table to tend to her own hair for once.  She began to pull it at the thick brown braids that remained coiled behind each ear. She made a small pile of hair pins in a glass dish reserved for that purpose and pulled the loose braids over her shoulders. The colonel reached for a lovely ivory handled brush her aunt Letitia sent for her last birthday, which sat at the right end of her neatly ordered dressing table. Just as her fingers brushed the smooth handle, she stopped. 

         Lady Une's hand remained in mid-air as her eyes fell upon a small box sitting amidst the other items on her vanity. Every piece of her grooming set had its place and was returned to that place as soon as she was finished, but that box was out of place. That box was not hers. She was, by nature, a curious person, but her training had also made her a cautious one. With the world still recovering from the recent chaos, it occurred to Une that the box could very well be some sort of bomb, an assassination attempt against His Excellency's right hand. That would explain her maids' behavior before they left. She sat still, considering her options until a deep voice startled her from her thoughts. 

         "Will you not open your gift?"

         Rather than turning towards the voice, Une glanced up to her mirror to see the person standing a few feet behind her. To her amazement, she found Mr. Treize smiling back at her from his perch on the corner of her canopied bed. He wasn't wearing the customary indigo uniform coat bedecked with gold braid and brass buttons. Instead he sat there in his white trousers, patent boots and the crisp white cotton shirt he normally wore underneath the Romefeller uniform. He looked quite…well…he looked like the cover of one of the romance novels her maids insisted on hiding about the place and Une could understand completely why the girls had been nervous earlier. The sight of a man like Mr. Treize sitting on a bed with his shirt half open was enough to make even the likes of Colonel Une nervous. How long had he been there? Why was he there? Questions whirled through her mind faster than she could voice any of them. Obviously, the questions also played across her features, prompting His Excellency to chuckle slightly, softening his already handsome features into a charmingly boyish expression.

         "Forgive the intrusion, Lady…"

         "Your presence is never an intrusion, Excellency."

         The young man smiled. It was a smile of pleasure laced with something slightly devious. It was a smile she was becoming accustomed to as of late. His Excellency had been looking at her with just such an expression more often. It reminded her of his first attempt, so many years ago, at seducing her. She had refused him then, quite wisely, but years in his company, at his service, left her resolve weakened. Not that he had made any other such overtures, but she could feel that he wanted to and Une wasn't certain that she could refuse him a second time.  It was difficult to maintain ones sense of propriety when faced with such a powerful presence. 

         "I convinced your maids to let me in earlier so that I might deliver my gift personally."

         Une's eyes returned to the box by her hand. She gingerly lifted the delicate item and placed it in the middle of the small table. It was obviously an antique, its intricate filigree design indicating the work of an eighteenth century artisan. She lifted the lid and was rewarded with the gentle sound of a music box symphony. A lovely light melody drifted from the delicate box, gently breaking the still air surrounding Aneke Une. 

         She stared a the box as the music played, not bothering to glance up again as Mr. Treize stepped behind her. She didn't respond when he asked if she liked the gift, only smiled down at the small box. She didn't even move when Treize's hands began to delicately pluck apart her braids. Aneke leaned into his touch as Treize drew his fingers through the freed chestnut locks. She whimpered slightly when his hands disappeared. A moment later, her glasses vanished from their perch. 

Her thoughts faded and drifted, her eyes clouded and suddenly, she was in a misty courtyard. The music box sound was replaced by the distant sound of a string quartet…and she was dancing. Everything continued to change, just beyond the mist, moving like liquid poured from a cup. Laughter, muffled voices, clicking heels on a cobbled walkway. Aunt Letitia in her youth…and another girl. A girl with long brown hair, gentle dark eyes and a smile that spoke of wisdom beyond her years… 

         _"Don't you believe in such things, Lettie?"_

_         "I know it sounds nice, Aneke dear, but I do not think it will ever come to pass. It is foolish to think so."_

_         "It is foolish to dream?" _

         In an instant, the hazy vision vanished and Aneke found herself in the arms of a ginger-haired man. There was a moment of confusion as Aneke struggled to remember her situation, but as Treize smiled, she gave in to the moment. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be twirled about the room in a breathtaking waltz, their movements accompanied by the sweet tinny sound of the simple music box. Round and round, her steps matching his perfectly, just as she fit perfectly against him as they danced. 

         The music ran down and stopped, just as their hectic pace slowed and ceased. Smiling and suppressing a giggle, Aneke opened her eyes and found Treize staring down at her with an intense, penetrating look. She rarely saw such depth of emotion on his face, such genuine passion. The utter honesty in his look left her feeling dizzy and little frightened.

         "Do you like my present, Aneke?"

         "Yes, of course. It's lovely, but…?"

         "But?"

         "What is the occasion?"

         "It is a going away present."

         The last statement was met with a shocked stare, laced with hurt. Treize smiled and touched her cheek. "Now, now, Lady. It isn't like you to jump to conclusions. I have a special request to make of you. OZ is in a very delicate position at present. If I am to step into a more sweeping leadership role, I will require the support of the Colonies. However, I'm sure you understand that it is impossible for me to leave Earth at present. Tuberov and those like him are skewing Romefellar's objectives to suit their own purposes and I need to be here to stop them. That is why I am asking you, Aneke, to represent me in space. Will you take my message of peace to the Colonies?"

         Aneke considered his words for several moments before responding. Part of her rebelled at the thought of leaving Treize's side, particularly with the opposition arising against him in Romefellar. The other part agreed that His Excellency needed a representative among the Colonials. With their support, the Gundam threat would be neutralized and there would be no more obstacles to His Excellency's rise to power. With a curt nod, Lady Une stepped back and said, "Of course, Excellency. I will organize a support unit and leave immediately." She raised her hand to salute, only to have her hand captured by the young man.

         "Lady, I don't intend to send a military detachment to space. That is just what the Alliance did. I wish the Colonies to see OZ as an organization that promotes peace and harmony through cooperation and strong leadership. I wish for you to meet with the colonial leaders in your capacity as a member of Romefellar. As a diplomat, not an officer of OZ."

         Treize drew her hand to his lips as he finished, never breaking eye contact. Lady Une felt her military instincts slipping back in favor of embracing the softer nature she displayed only rarely. She curtseyed gracefully, every bit the noblewoman,  and said, "As you wish, Treize."

**_~~~ Secret OZ base, Antarctic base ~~~~_**

         Noin tossed restlessly in her narrow cot, kicking away layers of blankets despite the cold air seeping into the gray room from every door and window crack. Her body shivered instinctually against the sub-freezing weather, but her dreams were even colder. Years had passed since those dreams plagued her last, but they returned with a vengeance a month earlier. Once again she was a lost five year old, weeping over the dead body of a boy she did not know, yet could not live without. 

         That night's dream was different. The woods were the same, the painful sensations of pain and chilled skin, but there was something out of place. Noin's brain entered that odd state between consciousness and total oblivion in which one can be aware of dreaming, yet incapable of affecting that dream. Her dream self crawled over familiar wreckage, inching her way to the dead boy. She leaned over his blood soaked body, stared at his pale face.

         He wasn't supposed to die. He was Noin. He was part of her. She reached out, moving aside a rope of damp hair and stared. She tried to remember what it was about his face that seemed wrong, why the round face and chocolate brown hair seemed strange.  Tentatively, she touched his frigid skin. The boy's eyes few open and Noin screamed.

She awoke with a startled yelp. She flew out of the bed, shaking off the last bit of sleep and gasped for air. What was that? What woke her with such a jolt? The dream faded even as Noin scrambled to pull it back. As her mind cleared and her pulse calmed, she realized what must have startled her so. The alarm clock on her night stand was blaring obnoxiously. She slapped at the offending object and cursed through clenched teeth. She was late. Hopefully the battle hadn't started yet, but she doubted she could be that lucky. Damn. Of all days to oversleep. 

Noin threw on a uniform, still buttoning the shell coat as she dashed into the command room at the top of the observation tower. As suspected, Heero—in his newly restored Gundam—stood facing Zechs in Tallgeese. They were ready. The boy calling himself Trowa Barton, turned slightly and acknowledged her entrance with a scowl.  

"This is a stupid waste of time," he snapped, "for some reason, OZ is after you people. What is the point of two sides with a common enemy fighting each other?"

Noin joined him at the console and glanced at the read outs as she responded. "You're right, but this is something they both need to do. They need to realize fighting each other is a waste of time on their own."

Trowa wasn't satisfied with that one. "So, in the meantime, the true enemy has the opportunity to grow stronger. We don't have time to wait for them to figure out why they're fighting. Soldiers fight. That is their fate."

Noin had to admit she was growing to like the kid. His head was in the right place, if not his heart. "No. A soldier's purpose is to protect. Ideas, countries, people. There is always a purpose to fighting. Even if it is not one we agree with, there is still purpose."

Noin's words affected Trowa a little and the two fell silent as the battle started. Noin occupied herself with directing support crews and overseeing the crews sent to watch the base perimeter. The search party would show up eventually, of that she had no doubt, but she hoped to have enough warning to meet them well outside of the base's airspace, giving Zechs and Heero time to finish their duel. The interruption came much sooner than anticipated and in a form even Noin couldn't expect. 

Relena's helicopter* was crossing the first lookout post and Noin had to scramble to order the Aries to stand down instead of intercept as she had previously ordered. She knew Relena was en route, but had expected the trip to fail long before she reached the polar region, but once again the girl proved much more tenacious than anyone thought. Noin felt both a bit of pride in her ward's spirit as well as a stab of annoyance at the unforeseen complication. Especially given the fact that Relena proceeded to incite Heero to kill Zechs. 

"Heero! You have to stop this! It won't mean anything if you allow yourself to be killed here! It won't change anything."

"Princess!" Zechs desperate voice crackled across the open comm. Link. "You must leave at once."

Noin was about to butt in, but remained silent as Relena spoke directly to Zechs. It would be the first time the siblings spoke since they were small children. 

"Are you Zechs Merquise?"

"Yes."

"Then I order you as a subject of Cinq to stop this at once." Noin almost smirked at the regal tone in the girl's voice. She certainly learned fast, that one. Or, more likely, it was just in her blood.

"I can't do that, your highness. I must avenge my men!"

"You do this for revenge? 

Zechs didn't respond verbally. Instead, he took advantage of the distraction to sidestep the helicopter and strike out at Heero. This very effectively pissed Relena off, but Noin could see that was pretty much what Zechs wanted. He wanted her to see the senselessness of what was happening around her. Relena uttered something that might have been a curse but was muffled by the noise of battle. Noin took the opportunity to contact the pilot and convince him to take Relena away, but the princess would have  none of it. 

"Miss Noin said you have dedicated your life to protecting the Peacecrafts, that you were a true knight of Cinq. What kind of knight participates in a foolish, pointless duel? You are no knight of Peacecraft!"

"Relena!" Noin hissed, using her best instructor's voice. "Stop saying such things!"

"Miss Noin. I'm disappointed that you would allow this."

Noin sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and fed up with the whole situation. "I deserve your contempt, Your Highness, but I'm not about to abandon Colonel Zechs right now. Please understand and leave at once."

"No, I won't! All right, Heero, if you won't walk away from this fight, then defeat him and end this now!"

"Relena! Stop it!" Noin shouted in shock. 

"Why? He has disgraced everything Cinq stands for! You told me we were pacifists, that my father died for the pacifist ideal and now you stand by and watch while this man destroys it? How could you?"

Noin managed to regain her composure and responded more calmly, but with no less strength. "I believe in him. I know why he is doing this and I must support him."

"He's with OZ! For all I know, he was part of the plan to kill my father! Heero, Zechs is an embarrassment to Cinq. Kill him!"

That was the last straw. It was time to end the girl's selfish tantrum.  "Stop it, Relena!" Noin screamed, for the first time allowing her anger seep into her words. She made fists to calm her fury and leaned heavily on the communications vid screen. "I understand why you hate OZ and I'm not going to explain away Zechs' mistake with his love for Cinq, but whatever tragedies you've suffered, you have no right to wish for the death of your own brother!"

"My…brother?"

"Yes," Noin replied quietly, regretting the method of her revelation, if not the revelation itself. With a sigh, she tried to explain as quickly as possible. "Ever since Cinq fell—since your parents were killed and the two of you were separated—your brother has had his heart set on revenge. OZ was the means by which he exacted that revenge. Now…he's lost the purpose that fueled him all of these years and he's searching for the will to continue. Right now, he thinks fighting the Gundams will lead him to a new purpose. He believes he is too tainted to take his rightful place on Cinq's throne. He believes you are destined to take your father's place and, whether he realizes it yet or not, it's really _you_ he is fighting for. Whatever else you may think of him or his tactics, your brother has never stopped trying to protect you from all of this, even protect you from himself. You have no right to hate him for that."

Relena stared through the video link, stunned. Noin watched as a myriad of emotions played across the younger girl's face. Shock, regret, anger, acceptance…understanding. She cocked her head and studied Noin as the older woman continued. 

"I'll keep believing in him. I want to stay by his side and help Zechs find himself again." 

"You love him, don't you?"

**_~~~ Safe house, southern Australia ~~~_**

         The commander watched the satellite feed with only mild interest. He had only pursued the pair out of curiosity anyway, so he felt no need to interfere. The search parties would most likely stumble upon them soon, so why meddle? It would have no real affect on his plans. After all, he had all but given the boy up for dead. The fact that Zechs Merquise had repaired the boy's Gundam was surprising and, if nothing else, that silly demonstration of chivalry would reunite the pilot with his weapon, but the outcome of the duel itself would do no more to hinder the commander's over all plans than they would help. It did make for entertaining viewing though. Watching the soldiers scramble as the two massive mobile suits fought was rather like watching one of the old Super Bowl tournaments he watched as a young child. 

         Most of his countrymen had preferred sports such as soccer, but as a child, the commander had always had a soft spot for American baseball and football. Major league sports such as those had been dissolved decades ago, but there were still the occasional broadcast sports tournaments and he could never pass up the opportunity to watch. Particularly if he was at home with his daughter. The commander sighed. Once again his thoughts turned to the only person in the universe who could still affect him on such a deep emotional level. He tried to reverse that even as he acknowledged the impossibility. She had won what was left of his heart the day she was born, which was why it hurt so to have her turn away from him now. It was better that she did so, he could acknowledge that both as a father and a soldier, but it still hurt.

         He half listened to the miscellaneous communications shooting back and forth between the many operatives on the base. Most were high-strung orders from one end of the base to the other. Some were updates from the observation tower. A few were comments exchanged between the pilots themselves. There was a conversation between Lucretzia Noin and her young ward, Relena Peacecraft. The older girl was wisely trying to convince the younger one to leave the area, but somehow she ended up defending her comrade Zechs Merquise. He had to admit. Getting Zechs to turn on OZ might prove worth the effort, but if he turned, Lucretzia Noin was sure to follow. The commander smiled unconsciously at the sound of the girl's voice, impressed by her intense sense of loyalty and friendship. It was foolish on her part but…

         The commander all but leapt out of the chair when he heard the girl's last comment. She and the little princess were arguing over Zechs Merquise, The girl was defending her friend and then…what did she just say? Oh, hell. Please somebody tell him that the girl didn't just broadcast that across the whole base. If she wasn't a target simply by association with Zechs Merquise, a revelation like that certainly bumped her to the front of the line. The last thing he needed was for Merquise's enemies to start poking around in that girl's past…

**_~~~ Secret OZ base, Antarctica ~~~_**

"Yes…I do love him," Noin's voice was quiet, but firm. Loud enough to be heard over the din outside, the communication glitches and static on her commlink. Her open commlink set to broadcast on all channels. Zechs sat stunned. Tallgeese was frozen in a posture of attack, facing the equally still form of Gundam 03. His instincts called for him to continue, to show his sister exactly how horrible people like him could be so that she may never be seduced by the promises of OZ or Romefellar or anyone else who claimed to know the road to peace. That road was in her heart and it was his duty to show her how wrong he was. But the rest of his mind, the conscious part that was currently controlling his actions, sat silent and still as he listened to the conversation between Relena and Noin. Whether or not she was aware that her conversation with Relena was being broadcast over every open channel had yet to be determined, Zechs was fairly certain that Noin was unaware of the fact that _he_ could hear everything she said. Or maybe she did know and she didn't mind that he could hear. The battle still remained deadlocked as Relena's aircraft hovered between the two combatants. Trusting that Heero would be too honorable to strike her down just to continue the fight, Zechs took the opportunity to listen and think.

"Miss Noin, please watch over my…my brother. Always."

Zechs felt his heart contract at those words. She accepted the fact that he was her brother. She shouldn't. She shouldn't even know she had a brother, but she did and she accepted him.

"Hm." Noin's voice caught his attention again, "It won't be easy to watch over him. He's a little reckless."

Relena laughed. "Must run in the family."

Reckless. Yes, he could admit to recklessness, but he couldn't allow that in Relena. Her position was still so tenuous. She was still so fragile. Relena couldn't afford to be reckless with her life, it meant too much, and his life…well, if someone had asked him the worth of his own life a few hours before, he would have said, 'nothing,' without hesitation, but now? Now he was beginning to understand what Noin said earlier. She tried to make him comprehend the meaning of his life, but he was too obsessed to see. 

         Zechs' attention was wrenched back to reality as sirens began blaring the intruder alert. The search party finally caught up with then all. He remained immobile for a few minutes, but it was enough for a profound change to take place in his heart. Suddenly, everything was so clear. He understood now what she had been trying to say earlier. He understood now what it was he had to fight for. Quickly powering down his beam saber and activating his long range weapons, Zechs took flight.

"Noin, evacuate the base and get Relena out of here. I'll hold off the search party." With a last look back, he added, "Glory to all the Colonies!"

"No!" Heero shouted, his voice frantic and shocked.

"We'll meet again, Heero."

"Colonel Zechs," Noin broke in, "We're prepared to join you, sir. Launching now."

"No. Take Relena and evacuate the base."

"Zechs, you can't!"

"Once everyone is a safe distance, I will surrender."

"Then I'm going to fight too! I'll order the other troops to escort…"

"Noin! Please," his voice became calm, resolute. "Please, let me protect the promising new leader of the Cinq kingdom. _Allow_ me to protect her."

"Understood," Noin answered softly, "Colonel…take care."

         Off he flew into a battle that would last only long enough to ensure his sister's safety and Noin's complete evacuation of the base. Then he surrendered. He was taken into custody and Tallgeese impounded. He was detained, rather honorably considering the circumstances and then sent to a large carrier in the middle of the South Pacific. Zechs paid little heed to what was going on around him at that over the days that followed. He had some serous thinking to do. 

Strangely, Zechs Merquise was more at peace than he had been in years. His life had meaning again. One admission, one declaration, and everything was as it should be. He understood what Noin had been trying to tell him the night before his duel with Heero. His personal vendetta was complete, but his duty was not fulfilled. He made a promise, almost fifteen years prior. A promise to protect his sister. He could finally do that. Free of the specter of Zechs Merquise, Milliardo Peacecraft could once again take on the duty left to him by his mother. He could not sit upon the throne, but he could protect the girl who would. He could work for her goals, their father's goals, in space. Twenty years before, Hiiro Yuy and Stefan Peacecraft worked together for peace. Where they failed, Milliardo and Relena Peacecraft would succeed. He would, eventually, redeem himself of his past sins and become worthy once more to call himself her brother. 

But for that to happen, Zechs Merquise had to die. 

**_~~~Sweepers salvage ship, South Pacific ~~~_**

         The crew of the salvage ship went about their merry business and totally ignored the old guy sprawled, half naked, on the deck. Howard had been their 'captain' for about three years, so most were quite accustomed to his daily sunbaths, the blaring music coming from the ship's external communication system—who the heck were the Beach Boys anyway and why were they singing about a little old lady?-- and the huge pitcher of marguerites slowly growing warm in the harsh sun. Yup. Howard was a weirdo, but they loved him anyway. 

         Well, they loved him until faced with the consequences of disturbing his afternoon naps in the sun. 

"What?!" 

"Don't get pissy, ya old fart." The unofficial second mate gave the old man a little kick, "You got a call."

"Who is it?" Howard's mood brightened and he sat up, "Oh, maybe it's that waitress from the Tiki Lounge…whasser name…Lola! Yeah, Lo-oh-la!"

"Not unless Lola's got a quarter inch cut and five o'clock shadow. Go answer the call, Howard."

"Well, help me up, numb nuts." The younger man gave Howard a hand up and watched him shuffle back below deck in his flip-flops and shorts. He shook his head and went back to work, glad that he still had a few years before senility hit. Working for Howard was a hoot though. How many Sweepers teams could boast a fully equipped mobile suit repair facility below deck?

Meanwhile, Howard plopped himself in front of a vid screen and connected to the open link. The sight that met him took away what little buzz he had left from the marguerites.

"Why the hell are you calling?"

"Now is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"We were never friends," Howard ground out, grateful for the sunglasses hiding the worried look in his eyes. 

"Why Howard, I'm wounded." 

"What do you want Commander?"

"I have some information for you."

"I'm not interested in the kind of information you deal in."

"Oh, I think you'll be interested in this." The commander's smug look set Howard's nerves on end. "It's about a certain pilot you expressed interest in at one time."

Howard looked puzzled, then suspicious. He never did know what to think of the Commander's little schemes and announcements. The old bastard might be having an acid flashback for hall he knew. The commander smiled and continued.

 "Oh you remember, doctor. I believe your comment was something to the effect of, 'if all pilots behaved as honorably as that young man, then we might just survive this mess.'"

"Zechs Merquise? What about him?"

"He's no longer with OZ."

Howard had to admit, that was interesting, but he still didn't see where the commander was going with this. "……that so…?"

"Yes, that's so."

There was a brief silence as each man measured up the other. Howard's mind began picking at the information. A rogue, ex-OZ pilot, arguably the best pilot in the world. And if he could come away with the Tallgeese…oh, it would be nice to see Tallgeese again after twenty years. Especially since he never had a chance to see the mobile suit in it full capacity. 

"So…commander…would you happen to know where I can find this Zechs Merquise?"

**_~~~ Cinq Kingdom, Peacecraft mansion ~~~_**

Three weeks. Lucretzia Noin was beginning to feel each day drag on longer than the last. She trudged upstairs to her suite in the Peacecraft mansion and slumped against the door. The duties as Captain of the Imperial Guard of Cinq were no more or less strenuous as those she performed in OZ, but emotionally, it was all more draining. She stripped on her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. She stayed in there a good hour, she was sure, allowing the hot water to wash away her fears along with the daily dirt. 

With a sad sigh, she reached for an ornate purple bottle and squeezed out a thick liquid. It was a foolish indulgence, but she couldn't help herself. The smell of lilacs brought her as much comfort at nineteen as it had when she was five. It was well worth the expense of importing custom blended shampoo just for the feeling that enveloped her when she washed her hair in the rich mixture. She lathered and rinsed, then finally decided to get out before her skin turned to prunes. 

She dressed in simple slacks and button down shirt and sat on the foot of her bed toweling her hair as she mulled over the events of the last few weeks. The news had been spread a month ago that Colonel Zechs Merquise, hero of OZ, was allegedly killed in a huge battle off the coast of some obscure Polynesian island. The reports made it sound a noble death, but Noin knew it was Romefellar's way of saving face. 

Noin understood why. She really did. Zechs defied Romefellar, yet he was still a hero in the eyes of the public. He couldn't be publicly tried without embarrassing all of OZ. His Excellency couldn't simply dismiss the insubordination without compromising his position as the leader of OZ. As Zechs said, even Treize answered to somebody and overlooking such a blatant disregard for orders was simply not possible. Sending him out to fight fifty Ares and twenty Cancer, in effect sending him off to be executed in a mock attack, would seem to be the only option. Romefellar could openly mourn a lost hero, Treize played nice with his superiors, and Zechs would no longer be a threat to their damned precious sense of control. She understood that. Really.

Understanding did nothing for her worried heart. It had been three weeks since Zechs sent her off with Relena while he turned to fight to protect them from the search party. Three weeks since that last, hazy communication between them. She practically begging to fight by his side, Zechs asking for the chance to protect his sister. It was a brief conversation, one that would not hold much meaning to anyone else, but Noin understood what Zechs was really saying and it did more to lighten her heart than even her own confession of love. In asking to protect Relena, he was accepting his role as Milliardo Peacecraft once again. 

Not long after, he surrendered to what was left of Inspector Acht's team and was ferried back to Romefellar. She had tried to speak to him, made quiet inquiries, but found that he was being kept in solitary confinement. A few days later, news was spread of Zechs Merquise glorious death in battle. Fifty Aries and twenty Cancers, seemed much to her, but she had to admit it made good press. She was stunned at first. Horrified that it was indeed true, but she received an odd communication from Treize himself that left her convinced Zechs was still alive. He hadn't come out and said anything specific about Zechs, but his method of offering condolences seemed a little left handed. She again made a few calls, pulled in a few favors, and discovered that neither Tallgeese nor a body had been recovered from the battle. Strange, she thought, that they would not attempt to salvage Tallgeese. This information only brought up more questions. However, she dared not press further, especially given her own precarious position. She had failed to report for duty after her lengthy leave. She was officially A.W.O.L. In another week she would be a deserter and branded such by her former comrades within OZ. She did not regret choosing Cinq's Imperial Guard over that of OZ's elite mobile suit corps, but there was still a sense of loss. She spent almost half of her life in service to OZ and suddenly it was gone. 

She sat up straight and tossed the damp towel across the room, finger combing her damp hair into some semblance of order. It was then that she caught sight of a small white envelope on the floor near her door. She padded over on bare feet and retrieved the it curiously. Inside the envelope was a lilac bloom, obviously freshly picked. Noin removed it carefully, smiling at the familiar scent and checked the envelope. Nothing else. No note, no card. Noin was about to go downstairs and ask the servants, when she caught sight of writing on the inside flap of the envelope itself. There, written in pencil, in an even handwriting she knew better than her own, was written one word.  

Maze.

Noin stared at the word for all of ten seconds before dropping the paper and making a mad dash downstairs. She ignored the servants practically diving out of her way, shook her head at the concerned glances from her Imperial Guards and flew around the corner to her office. She paused only long enough to open the window before hopping through and running down the stone steps just outside. She skidded to a stop just inside the hedge maze, panting, mind reeling and wondering if her fatigue had conjured up a ghost. 

         He was standing calmly behind the shelter of the overgrown maze walls, his red OZ uniform discarded in favor of the pristine white uniform of Cinq's royal family. Relena had complained about the old fashioned garb, but seeing the same gold embroidered finery on Zechs Merquise, presented a totally different picture. She stood still and silent, staring, making her brain comprehend the vision before her. The mask was gone, the crimson coat was gone, and most importantly, the dead look in his eyes was gone. When she didn't move to greet him, Zechs instead walked to her, stopping less than a foot away.

Noin reached out hesitantly, half believing that this was a dream or just wishful thinking. She started to withdraw her hand, convinced that the vision would evaporate at the slightest touch. The apparition caught her wrist. He bent over her hand, clasping is firmly within his own, and pressed his lips to the soft skin. Noin bit her lip to quash a gasp of relief as Zechs remained hunched forward over her trapped hand. She lightly brushed aside the long platinum locks that obscured his face and she kissed his forehead. They lingered there, frozen in that moment of relief and affirmation, before pulling away slightly. 

         He stepped back, tugging her along with him as they made their way further into the maze. He led her to one of the stone benches placed throughout the maze and they sat looking at each other for a long time. Noin was afraid to speak. She had believed in her heart that he was all right and that he would come back to her just as he had whenever they were parted, but the reality left her a bit stunned. So, there they sat for a long while, silently holding hands and looking at one another. It would have been an uncomfortable situation for two young people less acquainted, but Zechs and Noin were not the average teenage couple. 

"I heard what you said to Relena."

Zechs had spoken so softly, Noin wasn't certain she had heard correctly and so decided to remain silent. 

"I wasn't certain you knew that I could hear you or not…if you wanted me to know or not."

Noin smiled. Zechs was a confident man when it came to his skills as a pilot and commanding officer, but when it came to emotions, he was still the squeamish boy who got embarrassed at the slightest show of affection. He was actually blushing as he spoke, looking more the young gentleman than the seasoned officer. 

"I'm glad you heard," Noin finally said. She fought to keep her voice light and free of the stronger emotions tumbling through her heart at the moment. "I wanted to tell you so many times, but it never seemed," she paused, struggling to explain and choosing her words with care. "It never seemed appropriate…and I wasn't certain if the declaration would be welcomed."

         Zechs looked at her with a mixture of intense longing and complete understanding. He squeezed her hand and his expression softened into a gentle smile. 

         "Noin…" he murmured. He cleared his throat and sat straighter, turning to fully face the girl next to him. "The situation is still dangerous, both here and in space. It will take quite a while to resolve things, but with you and Relena working here on Earth, me in the Colonies, I'm sure we can stabilize the situation and bring my father's dream to fruition."

"You're going to space?" Noin tried not to sound desperate, but it was difficult. He had only just returned. 

"I've made arrangements to meet with the officials on several Colonies. I'll be working as an ambassador for Cinq Kingdom. Zechs Merquise is dead now, but Milliardo Peacecraft still has much to offer."

Noin nodded and looked down at their clasped hands. Zechs reached forward with his free hand and caught her chin, tilting her face to meet his. The look on his face took her breath away. 

"Noin, I'm not sure how long I will need to be in space….and I know I have no right to ask…"

"Yes you do. You have every right."

Her gentle voice and smile seemed to renew Zechs. He smiled, and before Noin could comprehend what was happening, she found herself caught up in a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, turning her face into his neck. She breathed in, memorizing his smell. The linen of his shirt, mixed with the warm smell of his skin. The spice of his aftershave mixed with the perfume of her shampoo, leaving them both surrounded in their mingled scent. 

Zechs nuzzled her hair and whispered, "Lilacs…the smell always makes me think of you…"

Noin raised her head enough to kiss his cheek, murmuring softly, telling him of her fears for him and the happiness she felt in his arms. Soon the whispered endearments gave way to sweet kisses. The kisses growing in intensity and passion. Zechs tangled his fingers in her damp hair, cradling her head as he began to explore her mouth. Noin was scarcely aware of the little sighs and whimpers drifting from her throat. She was too absorbed in the feel of Zechs. His platinum hair slipping through her fingers, his strong hand supporting her back, the feel of his chest pressed against her own. She ran her fingers over the back of his neck, scoring the warm flesh of his scalp with her fingernails as one hand explored the expanse of his back. Zechs answered with a low, vibrating grunt and deepened the kiss.  In a very brief moment of lucidity, a miniscule part of Noin's mind wondered how she ended up on his lap, clutched to his chest and…whoa, where was his hand going? But her rational self gave way just as quickly, gladly submitting to the pent up passions of a lifetime and the crushing embrace of a man she had loved since she was five years old. 

         Their passionate embrace was interrupted by a voice calling from beyond the hedge wall. The couple recognized Pagan's aged voice calling a soft warning. They pulled apart reluctantly, panting and staring wide eyed at each other. Neither wanted to move, but both knew it would be better to do so before things got out of hand. Noin slipped off Zechs' lap and back onto the bench only to be caught in his arms again. It wasn't the heated, crushing embrace of a few moments before, but rather a sweet gentle hug of reassurance. 

Zechs kissed her neck and whispered, "Wait for me." 

 It sounded more like a command than Zechs probably intended, but Noin understood and remained quiet while the man she loved spoke his heart. "When this is all over, we can start over again, here, in our home. Things can be the way they should have been. Just a little longer, Noin, I promise." Noin squeezed him tightly and nodded, her breath catching a bit. She was on the verge of tears and she did not trust her voice, but Zechs understood and she felt his relieved sigh against her ear. They sat like that for a few more moments. 

When Noin was sure her voice was steady she asked,  "So does this mean I have to call you Milliardo now?"

         "Do you want me to call you Lucretzia?"

         She crinkled her nose and giggled, "Why don't we just stick to Zechs and Noin."

         "Agreed."

         Pagan called again and the pair reluctantly rose, putting a good foot of distance between themselves before exiting the maze and greeting the older gentleman. They needn't have bothered if Pagan's grin was any indication, but their promises to each other were still too new to share. Zechs bid Noin farewell with a smile. Not the way he wanted to say goodbye, but it would be a while before they continue what was started in the hedge maze, so he thought it best to simply express his affection with words. Pagan bowed to Noin, gave her a wink and escorted Milliardo Peacecraft to the car. They started down the long drove towards the gate and Zechs slumped back against the seat with an audible sigh. Looking up, Zechs caught Pagan's amused glance in the rearview mirror and grinned. 

"She loves me."

Pagan nodded. "Yes she does, Master Milliardo."

Zechs' smile softened as he leaned back against the seat. "…and she's going to wait," he murmured to no one in particular. He just felt the need to say it all aloud.  "She loves me and she's going to wait for me." He leaned back against the seat and raised a hand to his heart. His fingers brushed a lump underneath his shirt. His mother's locket. The Peacecraft family heirloom intended as wedding present for his future bride. He had considered giving it to her in the maze, but there wasn't enough time. They still had so much work and so little time to consider their personal feelings. It was best if he waited for the right moment. After everything was settled between the Colonies and Earth. After Relena's position as Cinq's queen was solidified. Then he could do it right. Zechs turned in his seat as the car turned out of the drive. He caught one last glimpse of a raven head as Noin went back inside. Smiling, he turned his thoughts to the future.

Back at the estate, Noin returned to her suite, her progress much slower this time, but no less distracted. She was certain she had a goofy grin plastered across her face, but couldn't seem to make it disappear. Not that she really cared about that as her mind was still firmly planted in the maze. Her thoughts and heart were still with Zechs. With his gentle hands and soft kisses. With his smell and his smile. She closed the door of her room behind her and noticed the discarded envelope on the floor. She picked it up along with the small lilac bloom, grateful that she hadn't crushed the latter in her haste to see Zechs. She twirled the small flower between her fingers, sniffing at it absently as a smile played across her face. Walking to her dressing table, she opened an ornately carved box and retrieved a small book. Her fingers brushed over the other objects in the box. Drawings, trinkets, an empty scent bottle. The remains of a young life contained in an ornate box. Opening the small child's Bible, Noin carefully tucked the lilac bloom between the pages and returned the book to its place among her thoughts and dreams. She closed the box and smiled at herself in the mirror. It would be a long journey, but she had a light at the end of that journey. A life and a future with Zechs. 

====================== End Chapter 16 =============================

*Yes, I know that Relena was in an airplane when she interrupted the fight, but I've always thought it was stupid to have her hanging out of an airplane. I thought it made more sense to have her hovering between the two in an aircraft capable of just hanging in mid-air like that, so I changed it to a helicopter. 

I hope the gushiness with Zechs and Noin was worth the wait. And _actual_ kissage this time! WooHoo!  Um, would that qualify as lime? They only kissed, I know, but I got a little carried away with the image, so, if it's a little too limey for you, I'm sorry. But then, I thought it might make up for the long wait. So I'm forgiven for that, right?…_right_? What did you think of Howard? I couldn't resist making him an ageing hippy with a dirty mind. It's the glasses and the Hawaiian shirt.

_Disclaimer: _ Uh…let's see…hmm, what to say, what to say….howz about…I DON'T OWN IT SO GET OFF MY BACK!!! WAAAA! HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH?!?****


End file.
